24 hours with you
by everyJohn
Summary: Young John Watson was walking back from school s rugby practice when he came across to a kidnapping attempt. As he tries to help the other boy he is consequently also taken by the kidnappers. Who s the boy? And who are the kidnappers and what they want? There are lots of questions and getting answers to some of them may take more than 20 years.
1. Chapter 1

I naturally don´t own the characters of Sherlock, John or Mycroft (but the baddies are mine and so is the story!). I´m not native in English nor an expert of British culture so there is probably bound to be some mistakes despite my best efforts. I hope that they won´t prevent anyone from enjoying the story. All feedback is very welcome!

 **24 hours with you**

John Watson was walking back home after rugby practice. The sun was already low and the narrow side streets of London were being rapidly swallowed by shadows. He was exhausted after a long day. He also felt genuinely happy for the first time in a while. The coach had praised his skills as a player many times during today´s practice and John knew that he was almost sure to make it as a regular this time. The reason he hadn´t made it until now, after all, had more to do with his small build than his skills. John was never one to avoid danger and he was far too skillful of a player for others to ignore on the field. In official games opposing teams tended to construct of the oldest and biggest players of their respective schools and the coach was worried that he would get himself lynched. That thought didn´t concern John himself nearly as much. However, the coach was the one who made the decisions.

John knew that during the last year he had become kind of a mascot of the team. He almost never got any playtime, but despite that he was by far the hardest worker of the team, often being the first one to arrive on the mornings and the last one to leave at the evenings. His persistence encouraged other members to train harder as well. Therefore the coach kind of owed him a lot. Even John himself thought silently that he deserved to be rewarded for his efforts. It was great to notice that it would be happening soon.

John was so deeply in his thoughts that he hardly noticed that he had entered to one of the worse areas of London. It wasn´t one of the real bad areas (where one should never venture without a bulletproof west and a hand gun at least) but surely it was not a place for a kid in his age to walk alone. The smell of weed was quite detectable. Garbage bags that were piled next to old deteriorating buildings gave their own disgusting addition to the smell. There were dozens of cigarette butts on the ground next to something that looked like puke from last night. Occasionally some druggies hanged around here, but now the street was luckily empty. It was probably still too early for most of the residents as the area was basically nocturnal and at it´s busiest after midnight.

Even if John had seen someone, he wouldn´t have paid any attention to them. That´s how he ensured, that they didn´t pay attention to him either. Sometimes John really valued his almost magical ability to blend into surroundings. He was very ordinary boy. No remarkable physical features. No traits or talents that would stick out. Which was good. He wasn´t seeking trouble.

Then something alarmed him. He looked around carefully, not making it too obvious. He could hear voices from a dark gateway while passing by it. It was a kid, he realized. He hadn´t expected to come across to another kid here. The way the boy talked was very unusual for a child, however. Sentences were carefully pronounced. There was a hint of arrogance, but mostly the tune was just very self-confident. Despite himself, John got curious and glanced to the direction of the voice.

He saw a child, a bit shorter than himself but considering the fact that he was short for his age, the other boy was probably several years younger. He was talking to a man who looked like he could be a member of a criminal biker gang. The boy had long dark curls and a cute little face. The man on the other hand was dressed in a black sleeveless shirt and a leather jacket. His face was decorated with all kinds of piercings and his arms, thick as tree trunks, were covered in tattoos. In addition to that he looked furious.

John got chills down to his spine. He wondered if he should get someone to help. If he knew anything about angry people (and unfortunately he did), the kid was going to get a serious beating very soon.

-What a true fool you are, the boy told the man, daring to look mildly disgusted.

John was impressed by the dysfunction of his survival insticts.

-I noticed that you simply adore your young son. You have his picture on your wallet and when you see a boy even remotedly around his age you mention your son immediately. He used to idolize you but not anymore. You send him text messages at least once on every day but he ignores them. You haven´t seen him in a while. Not your decision. It was almost too easy. Just a bit of fake flattery about wanting to become a professional driver just like you when I´m big enough and you offered me a drive in the same car you used in a kidnapping a couple of days ago. You thought, you could understand your son better if you got friendly with someone around his age, didn´t you? Some innocent questions and you told me even the things I wouldn´t have dared to ask. Talk about overly eager.

The boy klicked his tongue.

-The boys in my age have generally very empty heads ( _according to my observations they have only some pointless information about ancient reptiles in there_ ). You still shouldn´t expect a 10-year-old to be less intelligent than a common house dog. ( _Even dogs understand some basic causality!)_ From the total lack of discretion, I must conclude that you didn´t seriously try to hide anything. Did you, perhaps, think that no-one would believe in a child like me?

The boy measured the man´s face as if trying to read whether his hypothesis was true.

-Too bad. Even a child is believed, if the evidence is convincing enough _._

-Evidence? You don´t have any evidence! The man snapped.

-I wouldn´t be that certain. Did you notice, that you had a yellow mitten on the back seat of your car. That matches perfectly to the one the victim was wearing on the day he was kidnapped. Your phone records also say that you contacted the parents of the victim at the time when they were asked for ransom. You could have at least erased them, if you didn´t want to get caught.

The man instinctively grasped his pocket. The child brought out a mobile phone in front of his eyes. From the way the man reacted, how he fumed when seeing it, it was clear that he recognised it.

-Sorry. I may have accidentally stolen it.

The child gave the man a toothy smile.

-You´ve been visibly shaken over the past two days. Even your coworkers have noticed it. You didn´t wish for the boy to die, did you? It´s heavy on your conscience. From what I´ve observed, you tend to loose your control and get violent during arguments, which is probably the reason why your wife finally left you. You are kinder and more patient with children, but maybe you hit your son once or twice 'accidentally'. Therefore she doesn´t wan´t you to meet him anymore. She´s also preparing for the court case to get the sole custody of your child. Probably she will even get a restraining order for you, because of your violent past. If that happened, you wouldn´t be able to see your only son anymore. That´s the reason, why you need money urgently. You would need a good lawyer to win the case. You weren´t too choosy when it came to the methods, but now you´ve started to regret it. You´re certainly stupid, evil and desperate but not really a killer. You were in this kidnapping simply for the ransom money and when the child died you simultaneously lost your chance with the money. My conclusion is that you have a partner in crime. Someone more clever and ruthless. Someone who noticed that the parents had involved the police. As the whole thing was not going according to the plan anymore he decided to get rid of the victim. And for some reason, you didn´t dare to oppose him. Only thing that is still a bit misty is where you hid the kidnapped boy before killing him. As you have been so very helpful until now, would you kindly reveal that too?

The boys light blue eyes studied curiously the man´s face. A long silence followed his words.

-Brilliant deduction, little man, the man admitted softly after a while.

John, who had watched the whole episode from the shadows was immediately alarmed by his calmness. He knew that "calm before a storm" held true when it came to violence. His old man was mostly harmless in his drunken rampages. He often yelled angrily and shouted insults to whoever happened to stand nearby, but usually that was it. However, John had learned to know when to avoid a punch. That was when his father became oddly silent and calm for a moment. That was the sign.

-There is just one thing I´m curious about, the man muttered.

-Just one? I´m fairly surprised. Though, if I remember right, they actually tend to say something about curiosity being a sign of intelligence, the kid mocked.

-The thing that I´m curious about is, how come you think that after all that you have said, I would just let you walk away with the evidence? The man continued.

The kid blinked his eyes, clearly a bit confused. For the first time, he seemed a bit unsure.

-You aren´t a killer, he claimed.

-I´m not. But I´m a repeated offender of domestic violence. I sometimes tend to lose my temper... And according to you I´m a kidnapper. If I´m going to lose my son anyway, I don´t see much reason to keep my hands even relatively clean.

With every sentence the man took a threatening step towards the boy who slowly retreated until his back was against a prick wall.

As the man rose his fist ready to lay it down in any second, the boy suddenly covered his head with his arms and shrieked:

-If you hurt me, my brother will kill you. He is important! He is in British government!

Right at that moment a chillingly calm voice cut in.

-Well, well, that was pretty interesting, wasn´t it. British government? Really?

A slender man in a stylish, long overcoat had walked into the middle of the scene without anyone noticing. The bigger man stiffened in the middle of a punch. He made very fast check of the other mans face. John could almost see his hairs stand up from alertness.

-M-Mercury? Came out of the man´s throat. The slender man´s face was hidden behind the brim of his hat, but John could see a glimpse of his white teeth when he smirked. Somehow his bare effortless presence was enough to make John´s insides squirm.

The man called Mercury bended over the darkhaired child and looked carefully into his frightened face.

-Well, we will have lots of time to talk it and other things. Because you´re coming with us. I´ll personally make sure, that you get to see the place where we held the other kidnapped child. Aren´t you pleased? My friend here, Al Raymond, will escort you to the right direction.

He patted the bigger man´s back in fatherly manner. The gesture could have been interpreted as friendly if it wasn´t for their obvious height difference of the two men and the fact that Raymond looked as thought his fingers tingled to break the other man´s neck. Those things considering it was clearly a demonstration of dominance.

Without muttering a word the man called Raymond picked the child up to his shoulder. The boy naturally struggled, kicked and tried to yell, but his voice got muffled when the man planted his huge hand on top of his mouth. Mercury walked first leading them to a car. He actually dared to whistle cheerfully as he went. The other man followed him while keeping the helplessly struggling child in his steady hold.


	2. Chapter 2

John Watson was shivering. He wanted to help. His guts, however, told him that this new man was expotentially more dangerous than the earlier one. He had only gotten a glimpse of the man´s dark bottomles eyes, but he already knew that he would see nightmares of them. It was as if the young man was standing on the edge of total soul eating darkness and insanity and not really caring about to which side he would fall.

John knew that it would have been clever to search for an adult and inform them. But… As the other child had said, adults had the annoying tendency to ignore childrens stories without clear evidence. Of course they would believe eventually when the kid´s disappearance would become apparent… but at that time two men and their young capture would be far gone.

A picture of his mother´s pale face and and tired eyes at the time she had just been hospitaliced came to his mind. The cancer had advanced and they already knew that she wouldn´t have long to live. Sister had been a wreck. Dad had been like a hollow ghost. Not eating, not sleeping, not wanting to see anything nor hear anything. And he… He had tried to be strong, because sis couldn´t and dad needed someone to look after him, but truthfully, he had been very frightened. Mom had always been their whole world, or at least the thing that kept everything going. The life without her had been unimaginable. Sis had accused him of being heartless, because he hadn´t reacted as strongly as she and their father, but mom had seen how scared he actually was. She had held his hand and smiled gently throught the pain she was feeling. The hands once so strong had felt fragile and he had cried like a baby. Mom had patted his head and murmured comforting words.

 _-My poor child...How could I leave you behind and die._

 _Tears glittered as they ran over his mother´s bony cheeks._

 _-But the doctors say, that´s what´s going to happen eventually and we should be prepared. I know already, that your father won´t be able to accept it. I know he is going to be a mess. He´s a kind man, but so very fragile. Try to be understanding of him, John. I shouldn´t be doing this to him… to none of you._

 _She gave out an exhausted sigh._

 _-I´m very worried about your sister, she then stated with a quiet voice, Harry has a good heart just like you, but she has such a fiery temper. Harry doesn´t have your patience and that will get her into trouble._

 _-I… I will take care of them, John had promised, but his mother had shaken her head._

 _-It´s their life, my baby. You are too young to take responsibility of anyone else. I shouldn´t… I shouldn´t be dying on them, but it seems that there is nothing I can do to stop that from happening._

 _She shrugged her shoulders and gave a smal helpless laugh. She coughed a bit afterwards._

 _-Though… You have to know John, that there is something I´m really grateful of. I really have such a strong and kind son. A son who feels so much for people and is able to handle their pain without crumbling. A son who is super wise and a true hard worker. I feel that I`m a plessed one after all._

 _-Mom… John hadn´t known, what to say._

 _-Just be yourself, John, that´s all I´m asking. Be brave and face whatever the world holds for you. Help others. Never cease from believing in people, because that alone can make a difference. I´m sorry that you must meet so much sadness even when you are so young. Nevertheless, I´m glad to at least say that I don´t worry for you. You are good and brave. You will survive whatever happens._

Believing in people makes a difference, his mother had said and from his experience John knew that to be true. He had been brave and good and he had survived when his mother had finally lost the long battle against the illness. He had even survived the time that had followed it. He had persevered because his mother had sicerely believed that he would, and John could never bear to disappoint that belief of hers. It still affected him. Even now, he wanted to act good and brave, be the boy his mom had believed of him being.

John stayed in his hiding place waiting for the right moment. When the big man was near enough, John dashed forward and tackled himself to the man´s knees. Raymond was taken completely by surprise. The force John put behind his attack and the unbalanced weight of the other child on his hands were together enough to sway the big man from his feet. He fell heavily to the ground like a logged pine tree. At the moment, his hold of the boy slipped. John grabbed the child´s hand and rushed to the opposite direction wishing desperately that they would find someone to help them before the men could catch up.

-We shouldn´t go there, the younger boy panted as John was trying to drag him to the other street.

He eyed the kid puzzled.

-It´s a dead end, the other boy explained.

-Okay. This way then? John asked and suggested the other path that seemed to lead away from their pursuers. The kid nodded and they took the path.

When a woman with long platinum blond hair (certainly not her natural color) and a trendy navy blue leather jacket walked towards them, John sighed in relief thinking that they had finally found someone to help them.

-There are two men following us, wanting to hurt us. Could you, please, help us to hide. And maybe call for the police, John tried to plead while catching his breath. To his horror, instead of helping them she only lifted her hand to her mouth in a way that made the numerous bracelets on her slender wrist tingle and shouted as loud as she could:  
-Mercury, Raymond! This way! They are here!

Al Raymond and the Mercury-guy appeared behind them almost immediately. Suddenly they were entrapped between the enemies on a narrow street.

-Oh shit! Bloody brilliant! John huffed. -I thought you said that there was only one partner?!

The younger boy shrugged his shoulders.

-I never said that.

-It was implicit, John claimed. He was panickly searching for an escape route as their enemies slowly approached them from all directions.

-Bloody hell… He muttered to himself as it became evident that there was none.

-It was not. I never claimed that there couldn´t be more kidnappers. I just deduced that Raymond couldn´t possibly be the brains of the operation, the younger kid corrected. He was visibly offended by John´s claim that there was a fault in his deductions.

-And… And mommy always says that using swearwords only proves that one has a limited set of vocabulary! In other words, that he is stupid, the child added precociously.

That was when John finally snapped.

-If you are so bloody brilliant yourself, how come, it never came to you mind how damned stupid this whole comfronting a kidnapper alone -idea was? In the shady part of London, no less. Gods´s sake! And without telling anyone. Are you freaking kidding me? Do you even have a mobile with you? Of course not! You are basically suicidal.

There was nothing the other boy could add to that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Greetings for everyone! Thanks for those of you, who have commented, followed or liked this story. I had actually written most of it already, but decided against publishing because no-one seemed interested. Now I fully intend to complete it!**

The kidnappers forced them into a white delivery car. There was a name of some unknown company on it´s side. John guessed that the car was Raymond´s. The blond woman covered their eyes and tied their hands with cable ties. After that it took what felt like hours of driving. The whole time the other boy kept mumbling something mostly unrecognizable. From the bits John heard it seemed really random. He talked about the condition of the road, approximate speed they were driving and degrees of turns they made. As if it was possible to accurately deduce their destination while traveling blindfolded!

When they finally reached the destination the boys were pulled out from the car and walked through a big yard. They were also forced to stagger through something that reminded John of long echoing corridors.

When the blindfold was finally removed and John was enabled to freely look around himself, he found out that they were brought into an abandoned office room. He saw the young woman, who had snitched them earlier in the doorway, grinning devilishly with her pink lipstick colored mouth. Then the woman locked them in.

-You are allowed to shout and yell as much as you want, boys. No one is going to be bothered by it, she told them sweetly through the door.

They were left alone in the room. It was slowly getting darker and darker as the sun outside set. The silence was getting heavy. John felt an uncomfortable block in the back of his throat. He decided not to cry and wished that the other boy wouldn´t either. Mostly because that would make it harder for him to keep his own tears from running. Crying wouldn´t help them. It never helped anything. John glanced the other boy. He was pale and looked shocked about the turn of the events, but at least he was still somewhat holding his composure.

-They thought that we knew eachother beforehand and were in this together, the kid suddenly stated. He looked straight at John.

-Why did you try to help me?

His pale blueish-greyish eyes were huge and he sounded honestly curious. He was really pretty, actually, John thought to himself. Even his clothes were all expensive brands. He was clearly intelligent and by his conduct one could tell that he came from a good family. Whereas… John looked at his dirty hand me down sneakers and baggy sweatsuit. He actually looked almost like he fitted well in the dusty office room in the middle of high piles of empty files and huge computers that hadn´t been used in at least 10 years. He sighed.

-Because it seemed like you were in trouble.

The other boy looked surprised.

-Wouldn´t it have been wiser to get some help?

-It might have been, John admitted.

-But I didn´t have the time. And I thought that no-one would believe me without evidence and you would be gone before I could get any help.

The child considered it. After a while, he nodded slowly.

-That may actually be correct, he agreed. Then something unpleasant seemed to come to his mind as he started to anxiously tuck his un-ruly curls.

-But now we are both in trouble. And my brother is going to kill me! The boy groaned.

John couldn´t help but laugh. This kid was interesting. Even in this situation, what he was most worried of was his brother´s anger.

-Does he really have contacts in British coverment?

-He basically is the British coverment. Or at least, he will be soon, the kid announced proudly.

John cracked up.

At first the boy looked a bit offended but then he also began to laugh. He had a very facinating laugh, devilish and innocent at the same time.

-If they are listening to us, they will think, that they captured the craziest nuts! John claimed tears of laughter in his eyes.

-Jep, the absolute lunatics! The other kid snickered.

-Hey, that sounds like a name for a band, John noted, Should we form one? Do you play any instruments?

-Violin. How about you?

-Clarinet, John smirkled. -Clarinet and violin are probably not the first instruments one thinks when one hears about a band called The Absolute Lunatics. But who cares.

The shared laughter had relaxed them both. Earlier John hadn´t been too sure if he even liked the other kid (he had seemed fairly annoying), but after laughing together he found himself fond of the weird boy.

-How long do you think it will take for the British coverment to find us here? He asked the kid jokingly.

The boy pondered seriously before answering.

-Maybe a couple of days if the Mercury-guy is as pedant as he seems to be. It will probably take an another hour before my family discovers that I´m gone. I did pretty good job in deceiving them this time, after all. I even left my mobile home because I didn´t want to get tracked by it.

The boy sounded very proud of himself until he noticed John´s raised eyebrow and shyly added:

-Which was probably not entirely a good decision...

John snorted. The boy scowled back but continued.

-Anyway, after they finally find out, knowing my brother, it will take barely any time to deduce where I´ve gone. I actually found out about this case by eavesdropping his conversations and he knows that I tend to do it. When they notice that I´m not coming back and can´t be traced, they will take into consideration the possibility of me being kidnapped. As the earlier victim was brutally killed, I bet the my brother will take this all very seriously.

Hearing that John licked his dry lips. Two days. If it was true, quite a brother the boy had… He, on the other hand, would be lucky if his pale excuse of a family finally noticed him gone after two days. John guessed that sis would be the first one to miss him when coming back from her trip. From the looks of his father on this morning, John could predict that he wouldn´t be in any condition to care about anyone else in any time soon.

-Then… Do you think they will keep us alive until then? John asked.

-Hard to say.

They both went silent while thinking about that. Finally John rose his head and asked a question that had been bothering him for a while.

-I have been thinking. As we both seem to be stuck together, well, at least for a couple of days, I think, it would be nice to know each others names. What´s yours? Mine is…

-You don´t have to tell! And I won´t tell you mine so don´t even ask, the kid interrupted quickly.

John frowned. He was a bit taken aback.

-If it gets out, who I actually am, I don´t know what they will do. They may even use me as a hostage against my brother. And if they ask for a ransom, I will die of an embarrashment. I don´t want to be in any evening magazines because of this, he explained. You don´t look like you´re good at lying so it´s best for both of us that you know as little as possible.

-For your information, I´m not nearly as much goody two shoes as you seem to think. I can tell a lie, when needed, John muttered feeling a bit insulted.

-According to you getting kidnapped is what? Embarrassing? If that really is your main concern, damn, you have weird priorities, he continued.

John sighed loudly.

-What would you want me to call you then? He inquired snarkily. The other boy didn´t seem to notice his mood. Instead he seemed to have the answer ready.

-Captain Redbeard! He breathed out. His eyes were sparkling as if he had been waiting for this.

John bursted into laughter.

-Captain Redbeard? He repeated, both surprised and amused.

-You have something against it?

-No, no, John reassured him.

-I just… I thought that you liked to play detective. That you maybe wanted to be one when adult. But actually… pirates?

John began to laugh.

-The pirates are cool, the other boy muttered poutingly.

John rose his hands in apology.

-They really are and captain Redbeard is a great alias. Though I think detectives are also pretty cool and I think you would make an amazing one. But anyway… What would you call me then? I can tell you my real name if you´d like. I´m not that afraid of being 'embarrassed' and none in my family are that impressive anyways. If these people actually asked ransom from them, they would get what? Maybe ten pounds...

-Don´t bother. I never remember anyone´s real name, anyway, Redbeard (as John had immediately started to call the other boy in his head) interrupted.

For a while, his forever changing eyes concentrated solely on John. His gaze run through him from head to toes.

-You like sports, he stated.

John took a look at his faded sweatsuit and sneakers and admitted that it was pretty obvious.

-Yes, I do.

-How about Victor? Redbeard suggested. His eyes pointed towards John´s t-shirt in which there was a printed sentence: "For the victory of the team". His scarf and jacket covered it mostly but VICTOR of the "victory" was clearly wisible. John shrugged his shoulders. It was fine by him. Actually in all secrecy he thought that it was a way cooler nickname than Redbeard.


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow having secret names made the whole situation seem more like a play of pirates and kidnapping than reality.

During that night none of their kidnappers came to check them. Nothing happened and the time seemed to slow down. At first John tried to talk to the other boy, but Redbeard didn´t seem to be in a mood for that. He stubbornly stared at the wall. He told John that he was thinking. Maybe he was. John however noticed that the longer they were alone in the dark room and the longer the space between their last meal grew, the less arrogance Redbeard could muster up and the more effort he seemed to need to keep himself from crying. John sighed. He crawled near the other boy and when Redbeard complained, he claimed it was because it was getting chilly and Redbeard let it be. John smiled. He leaned to the smaller boy, who became completely stiff from the touch.

-What do you think you are doing? Redbeard hissed.

-I need to feel warmer to be able to sleep. It´s night time. John explained.

Redbeard didn´t say anything to that, but he let John stay as he was.

-You are weird, Redbeard muttered in barely audible voice.

-Me? Why? John asked confused. Weird wasn´t actually a positive adjective, but as he had never regarded himself as anything but oridinary, that kind of label made him curious.

Redbeard´s light colored eyes glimmered in darkness. He looked thoughtful.

-You come from a poor household. They also neglect you. Your mother has most likely passed away a couple of years ago. Either that or she divorced your father. You live with your father and an older sibling. I would say a brother as most of your clothes must be his hand me downs. At least one of the people you live with seems to have a big problem with alcohol.

John´s eyes became a bit sad as the other boy listed his life story. It sounded more pathetic to hear it from someone else´s mouth.

-She died, he mumbled.

-Your mother died? Excellent! Redbeard rejoiced.

-... Oh, I shouldn´t sound happy about it, right? Redbeard figured as he figured John´s darkened expression.

John nodded.

-Your timing is horrible. I mean, I know that you aren´t actually happy about her death but about the fact that you guessed correctly, but that´s how it sounds.

-I didn´t guess! I never guess, Redbeard protested.

John smiled slowly. He didn´t seem to be capable of staying angry at his tactless friend.

-Well, if you actually could guess that well you should try lotteries. You would be a multimillionaire in no time... So? How did you actually manage it then?

His curiosity seemed to flatter Redbeard. He inhaled dramatically and began explaining:

-First of all, everything you wear is a bit worn out and most of them seem to be hand me downs from your brother. You don´t own even a mobile phone. Otherwice you would have called help from the beginning. The fact that your family doesn´t take very good care of you is quite evident as they let you walk home alone at that time of evening. It´s not even the first time for you, is it? You´d rather spend time at school than come home early so maybe your parent abuses you. You don´t seem angry or scared, however, like one would be in that case. You even seemed eager to challenge Raymond into physical combat. Neither have you bruises or any other obvious marks of an abuse. Something else then... Maybe they drink. In matter of fact I can smell the remnants of alcohol in your jacket. No-one really drinks at school and you clearly came straight from school as when I first saw you, your jacket was crumpled on the shoulders. I suppose, you were holding a backpack before you decided to take action and abandoned it to enable yourself to move as fast as possible. You are pretty tidy despite being poor. Therefore you wouldn´t wear jacket that smells of beer, if you had time to wash it. In conclusion, the smell is from this morning. Who drinks at mornings? Well, definitely an alcoholic. About your mother... I noticed the hand knitted scarf you have. The boys in your age tend to think that kind of stuff as embarrassing (besides it really is quite ugly and definitely worn out), but you keep wearing even when it´s not that cold. Therefore, the scarf has sentimental value to you. You don´t look like you have a girlfriend and...

-Excuse me, what exactly is wrong with my looks? John demanded to know.

Redbeard reacted only with a briefly annoyed expression and continued then the fluent flow of deductions.

-So the scarf was knitted by someone in your family, most likely your mother, and quite some time ago as it seems. You keep wearing it, as it reminds you of her and she is not likely to make you another scarf anymore. Therefore you don´t meet her anymore. Which leaves us with either death or a difficult divorce. You live with an alcoholic father instead of your mother an therefore she is more likely to be dead.

About the older sibling... Well, you don´t seem like a person, who would leave a younger sibling at home alone with your dad. An older sibling wouldn´t normally let you walk home alone either, but because of your clothes I would still deduce that you have an older brother. Maybe he´s just absent at the moment.

Redbeard turned to face John.

-How did I do, he asked excited.

-Did I get everything right?

John stared back with wide eyes feeling stunned.

-Brilliant. Absolutely amazing.

Then he giggled nervously.

-If this was lotto, you would have six correct numbers without question!

Redbeard´s face dropped.

-Only six? You mean to say, that I missed something essential. And what is that?

-A small detail, John smirkled.

-My sister just happens to be extremely boyish. Great for me, as I get to use her old stuff.

Sherlock hit his forehead with a palm.

-There is always something!

When John woke up in the middle of the night without clear reason. His bounded hands felt numb and he couldn´t remember falling asleep at all. His new friend slept peacefully next to him. The floor of the office room was cold and hard, but all in all John was surprised how comfortable he felt.

Cluster of dark curls tickled his right cheek and he felt a warm weight on his shoulder where the younger boy rested his head. Redbeard looked much younger when his rude mouth was shut. The constant frown of eyebrows had relaxed and calm breath kept flowing slowly through the younger boy´s lips. John smiled warmly at the sight.

They were in grave danger. He should have been terrified, but all he could think was, how Redbeard was amazing. He had never had a friend like him. Redbeard was more intelligent than anyone he had ever known, and at the same time really childish. Redbeard didn´t see dangers, he only saw adventures. For him it was all fun and games. He was arrogant but innocent. He was both foolhardy and oddly wary at the same time. The stubborn wish to use fake names proved that he didn´t trust easily.

Johns eyelids felt heavy. Redbeard´s warm body felt comforting against him. The slow rising and lowering of the small chest made a nice lullaby. John drifted away, surprised of feeling safer than in his own bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay. For the readers: Next couple of chapters are going to be a bit violent. Not horribly so, but if you don´t want to read about children getting physically abused, you may want to avoid reading this. There is quite bit of swearing too...**

-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!

The screaming woke John up as gently as a slap on face. He rose to sit and hit his head to a corner of a desktop. Blinded by bright lights as he was, it took him a while to remember where he was and who was shouting.

It was the female kidnapper. The woman shook Redbeard violently from the shoulders. The boy himself had pressed his lips into a stubborn thin line and refused to answer.

-Redbeard… Are you okay? John asked as he reached to touch a throbbing bump starting to form in the back of his head. The expression on the other boys face softened when their eyes met.

-I´m fine, Victor. Except my eardrums... He rolled his eyes and dramatically blocked his ears with his forefingers.

The woman saw red.

-SHUT UP, BRAT!

-Are you sure. I thought you were trying to get me to talk? But if you are sure, then...

-DON´T TRY TO BE CLEVER WITH ME!

Redbeard shook his curly head and shrugged his shoulders to John.

-Women are so hard to please...

-I´LL KILL YOU, BRAT!

They heard the door creak and Al Raymond looked them tiredly from the doorway

-Bella, what the hell are you screaming here? You woke me up...

-I´m asking the boy his name and he refuses to tell me! In the morning news! He´s everywhere! The woman informed him agitatedly.

The man blinked his bleary eyes.

-I was sleeping until now. What the hell do you mean everywhere?

-Every channel in television. Magazines. Internet. He was even mentioned in a radio announcement! His pictures are in every goddamn lamp post in London. Half of the British police force is searching for him right now, but his f**king name or any personal information aren´t revealed. And the nuisance refuses to talk!

-You didn´t lie about your brother then, did you? John mumbled as the woman ranted.

Redbeard winked to him smugly.

-I never lie.

John rolled his eyes.

-Hah! Yes. Just like you never act disrespectfully or impulsively either...

Al Raymond bended his huge frame over them.

-This may seem like a game to you, but think again, he addressed Redbeard.

-Just tell us your name and address. That´s easier to us all. We are able to contact your family and ask for ransom and you finally get to go home with your friend.

Redbeard scoffed.

-In two neat body bags like your former captive? No thank you.

The big man´s face darkened.

-I didn´t want the boy to die, he told them dryly.

-He still died, John mumbled to his scarf.

Raymond cast him a sharp glance.

-We could contact _your_ parents without any problem. Mercury got your contact information from the school bag, which you left lying on the street. According to him you were involved just by chance and your family is not worth even trying. Couldn´t pay anything even if they wanted, he said. According to him, your father was so drunk that he hadn´t even noticed that you were gone. Your luck with life isn´t enviable, little guy. The random boy you met on the steer and decided to help for your good heart, stubbornly refuses to give us the information, which we need to release you.

John´s upper lip twitched with anger, but he listened silently. Right. Even kidnappers had guts to pity him for his family situation. It bloody wasn´t their damn business! He wanted to yell that to the man but knew, that it wouldn´t pay off to rage at someone, who was at least three times his size.

-Tell me, 'Almond', do you seriously think, that if you just knew my name, you would somehow magically get all the money you wanted and a lift out from the country? And then all of your problems would be solved? Redbeard cut in the middle. He used a self-made nickname for the man, probably simply in hopes that he would find it annoying.

-It would never go like that. Even I can tell you that much. My brother would not let you get away with this no matter how careful plans you have made. He´s tenacious. He´s also most cunning person I know. Trust me, I know as his little brother. If you let me live, he may let you live too. He will still catch you, but he won´t make any of his minions to kill you straight away. I promise to visit you in jail and laugh at your face.

Before Raymond could answer to that, the woman kicked an office chair. It fell with a loud bang.

-I´M ABOUT THIS NEAR OF DOING IT, BRAT! KILLING YOU, JUST FOR THE KICKS OF IT! She showed a barely visible distance between her fingers. Redbeard sighed heavily.

-Shit this all, the woman hissed a bit less strongly. Her aggression changed slowly into desperation and she began to chew her painted fingernails.

-Why did I even agree to this? I don´t want end up in jail or killed, just because you and Mercury happened to kidnap a child of some mafia lord or something, she wailed.

In the middle of all that Mercury walked in the room. He didn´t say anything, just observed what was happening.

-I don´t want to be locked up in some dark place until I´m old and wrinkled, the woman weeped. John noted that she stealthily glanced Mercury to see the man´s reaction. Obviously she was expecting some sort of comfort. Maybe her way of throwing a fit was just for attention. John´s sister did sometimes similar stunts, and he hated it. It was difficult to deny something from a crying woman. Mercury however seemed to be immune to the effects of tears.

It was Redbeard who snapped:

-Oh, shut her up already! This is getting really annoying. Seriously, woman, isn´t it quite obvious that your mr Right doesn´t care a bit about the show you´ve put on? Do you really think that the man loves you? You are so easy to deceive! You had sex with him once or twice and now you have delusions about him liking you? He probably found his little _services_ to be quite a cheep price for the things he has planned for you.

The woman lunged to Redbeard.

-SHUT UP. You know nothing about it! She roared, how would a brat like you know anything about love?

Redbeard got some of her spit on his collar and was obviously horrified to realize that he had no way to wipe it off while his hands were bound.

-Come on, woman, do you even know your 'lover´s' real name? Even I can tell you, it´s not Mercury. Well, why would he tell you?

He continued the verbal attack.

-I bet he plans to make you and Raymond shoulder the blame for him after everything is done. He´s not too worried about my brother finding you, because at that time he would be far gone. If you need some evidence, think about it. He didn´t make any of the phone calls and Raymond´s car was used in kidnappings. Trust me, he has been lying to you right from the beginning. He didn´t need the money. He just wanted to... kill someone.

Chilling silence hit the room right after he had shouted those words.

-The kid is quite clever, Mercury said with a cold bemused voice. When he saw the unsure looks his comrades gave to him, he gave a loud hacking laugh.

-Don´t you see it? He is trying to turn us against each other, he asked them.

-Yes, there are people searching for him. But try to remember, that the fact that they are searching doesn´t mean that they are going to find. They didn´t find us earlier either. And no-one can say that they didn´t try... Even if they somehow eventually found this place, it would take them ages. We have plenty of time to get rid of the evidence and disappear before they get even near. We don´t necessarily need the ransom. I have connections and one of them has promised to get us out from the country. He had enough money to spare and has promised to loan me enough to pay you both.

The woman looked a bit unsure.

-But... Why did you insist on us to make the phone calls? And why don´t you tell us your real name? I... I don´t think either that Mercury is your name. And we didn´t like that you killed the earlier child. You could have at least discussed it with us beforehand.

-You and Raymond made the phone calls, simply because it was more convenient that way. Killing the boy was imperative. I didn´t tell you because, I didn´t want you to feel too guilty about it. And what comes to my real name... Well. I can tell it to you, if you want to. I don´t like it much. It brings back memories, that are better forgotten. Doesn´t really matter anymore though as it´s just for today, anyway.

The cold man smiled almost sadly, deep in his thoughts.

-I don´t have a reason to hide it anymore, he whispered to himself.

Then he turned to his comrades.

-Alfred. Alfred Brown. Actually my college mates made it a habit to call me Mercury. I think it was because of the Queen´s vocalist Freddie Mercury. Do I look like him or something? He asked the others.

As no-one answered he shrugged his shoulders.

-Are you happy with that? Or would you like to see my ID card? Here it is, if you want.

He held up an old driving license. John saw Redbeard stretch his neck to see.

After that was handled and his comrades satisfied, Mercury directed his attention to the children. He kicked Redbeard to his side.

-You dare threaten me with your powerful brother, brat? Do you think that a custom made coat and posh boy attitude makes you invincible? The harsh truth is, that you´re nothing but a little shit. Do you see your brother here? Because I don´t. To me it seems, that you´re alone, tied and on our mercy. We wouldn´t even need to kill you. All we could do is to leave you alone and in couple of days you would die from dehydration lying on your own feces. How does that sound to you?

\- Here you are nothing but a helpless child. Just a stupid, sheltered brat, but you don´t seem to understand it. Therefore I need to give you a proper lesson. To remind you of your exact position. Pity… It´s such a pity. I don´t like hurting children. Or, who knows, maybe I like it after all..., the man mumbled and grinned to his words. There was something chilling in how nonchalantly he spoke.

Then suddenly, without any warning or change in his tone, the man stepped on Redbeard´s leg with all his weight. Everyone in the room could hear the sound of the bone breaking. Redbeard howled in pain. Time seemed to stop. The smile on Mercury´s face didn´t falter at all.

-Now tell me, child. Who is your brother? Not that I really care, but you need to answer when asked, brat. Why? Because you´re small. You´re bound. Because I could hurt you. Even kill you. If I wanted to, your brother or anyone in the world could do nothing to stop it right now.

Redbeard tried to retreat, but he was soon chased into a corner. He didn´t have chance to either escape of fight against the persecutor. He wheezed light blue eyes dilated.

-I asked you a question. WHO IS YOUR BROTHER?

Mercury kicked the injured leg and made Sherlock wince in pain. The boy shivered, but didn´t answer. Actually he seemed too scared to form words.

-It seems that you need some more punishment to make you more obedient. Such a lucky thing, that people have so many limbs, the man muttered calmly as he leaned closer to Redbeard´s other leg. Redbeard did his best to squirm farther away.

The two adults in the room just watched it frozen. The woman turned around, face twisted in disgust, not wanting to watch, but not doing anything to stop it from happening either. Raymond´s hands were pressed into fists and his eyes were clued in the back of Mercury. He looked ready to strangle the smaller man, but he did nothing either.

-LEAVE HIM ALONE! John screamed. Everyone had conveniently forgotten that he even existed.

Even with his legs and arms tied he somehow managed to roll between his smaller friend and the man. He struggled to sit straight and when he did, he looked to the man´s eyes with the whole force of his anger without holding anything back.

John was known as a boy, who could silence a changing groom full of raging teenagers with his glare if he wanted to. But simple glaring wasn´t enough to stop a killer, he knew. The man swayed John aside easily, as though he was nothing but an annoying fly, and turned back to the younger boy. That was a deadly mistake, which he soon discovered. John´s sharp white teeth sank deep into his ankle. The man screamed in pain and cursed loudly.


	6. Chapter 6

John tasted warm, salty blood in his mouth. He got several hard hits both to his head and his body, but despite the pain and tingling of his ears he kept his jaws closed as long as possible.

-Wow, the woman whispered. She looked at John eyes wide like she saw him for the first time.

Raymond next to her seemed even more impressed. He might have clapped his huge hands in awe if it had been possible without Mercury seeing.

John spit the remnants of the blood from his mouth. He avoided looking to the direction, where Mercury hissed and cursed in rage and pain. His heart thumbed painfully against his battered rib cage. He had a feeling similar to that of a little mouse in the middle of crossing a huge field while suddenly hearing a flapping of huge wings nearby.

John cast a wavering look to Redbeard. He forced a small smile on his face. What was done, was done. All that was left was to brace himself.

Mercury took out a long knife. He approached the boys slowly and threateningly. John found it impossible to get his eyes off from the glimmering steel.

-That is a bit of an overreaction, don´t you think, Mercury, Al Raymond mumbled looking wisibly disturbed by the direction things were going.

-If I were you, I wouldn´t advice me about anything, Mercury encountered sharply. Raymond closed his mouth obediently.

Mercury looked to John with his narrowed eyes.

-Do you know, what you just did to yourself, brat. You just ensured yourself a death sentence. And I swear, I´m not making it quick or easy... No, I´m going to have fun with you.

John winced. He reached for Redbeard´s hand. His fingers touched the wrist. It was cold and sweaty. The younger boy was shivering. Or maybe it was just his own hand that was shaking. John wasn´t sure.

-Don´t kill him, the smaller boy pleaded quietly.

-Please, don´t kill him, he added and it was almost a sniff.

The man pulled John closer and slided the knife through his cheek enjoying the sight of the boys terror. Small pearls of blood followed the route of the blade. The wound was narrow. Made just to intimidate, but John couldn´t help closing his eyes and drawing himself as far back from the weapon as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

-Mercury, someone is at the parking area! I can see a black car from the window, Bella informed them suddenly.

Redbeard whispered something barely audible and everyone´s eyes turned to him.

-Brother...

Mercury dropped John down. He tucked the knife back to his pocket and simply bent over the boys looking them to the eyes.

-I promise you, that this is not the end of it, he informed and patted both boys to their shoulders. He gave a chilling smirk, turned on his heels and exited the room, without paying any attention to his subordinates, who followed tightly after him looking notably anxious.

When the door closed after them, John finally allowed himself to breathe. He sank to the ground and gasped for air.

-Victor… Victor!

His comrade´s hand pulled his sleeve.

-I´m alright. It´s just the nerves... He reassured the boy.

After taking a couple more breaths he had enough energy to look at Redbeard.

-How about you? The noise your leg gave was horrendous...

The younger boy´s face twisted from the mention of the leg.

-I´m… fine, he claimed.

He was deathly pale and his voice was shaky. John didn´t believe him a second.

-Yeah, right, he muttered.

-If only we could somehow get free of these damn binds! I would like to take a look at your leg. I´ve read some stuff and seen pictures. I even had an extra course of first aid in school. You see, I´d like to work on the field some day. Besides my father is always tumbling when drunk and therefore I get lots of practice. So maybe I could do something...

John´s voice faded as he remembered, how ridiculous that dream of his actually was. He a doctor? If he ever told about that to Harry, her laughter would know no end. He knew it himself, that they would never have enough money to support his studies.

John shook off the pessimistic thoughts. This was not the time for that. He needed to concentrate.

Redbeard had leaned forward and followed curiously changes in his expressions

-Then… I should help you get free, right? Then you can help me in return, Redbeard suggested. John stared back blankly.

The boy winked and waved his hands playfully. It took a moment for John to notice that for the boy to be able to do that they needed to be free. His mouth dropped. Redbeard giggled to his expression.

-How on earth…?

Redbeard waved a knife in his fist grinning mischievously. If John´s eyes served him right, it was the same one that had just scraped his cheek.

-Christ, Redbeard… John muttered.

Suddenly, an uncomfortable thought came to his mind.

-Don´t tell me, you did it on purpose!? You pissed him off to get him close enough?

Redbeard´s smug expression confirmed it.

For a moment John couldn´t say a thing. He shook his head trying to comprehend the whole insanity.

-That... that was downright crazy. I hope you know that, Redbeard? And... Even if it´s all great that you are Arsène Lupin of pick pocketing... Well, a broken leg doesn´t make our escape exactly easier, he pointed out.

-Well, I didn´t _plan_ to get my leg broken, obviously, Redbeard pouted.

That was such a stupid comment for such a clever boy, that it made John wince.

-What did you expect then? A pat on your head? These people aren´t freaking buddhas on a straight way to Nirvana! They are bloody kidnappers, who have already murdered one innocent kid who didn´t even annoy them on purpose, if you remember? Seriously, Redbeard! You really should keep your death wish in check.

The last words came out more softly, his worry getting better of his anger.

The younger boy looked back to him astonished. Then he suddenly sniggered.

-What now?!

-May I remind you, that it was no-one but you, who actually went and bit him. That was crazy reckless if something!

John batted his eyelids feeling foolish.

-Yes... I really did that, didn´t I?

-He almost killed you for it too.

-Oh, I thought I was going to die for sure... I bit him good, though, didn´t I? I think it´s going to leave a scar... John mumbled eyes wide.

Redbeard smirked darkly.

-I think so too.

John answered with a shaky grin.

-Serves him right! ...I think.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, dears! :) It would be really nice to hear even more of your thoughts about the story and the characters (and actually whatever comes to your mind...) So review it, please.**

 **-EveryJohn**

The younger boy crawled behind John and began to work on his hands.

-We should get out of here as soon as possible, Redbeard mumbled as the plastic binds finally gave in.

John rubbed his wrists. He turned around to see him face to face.

-Do you think that the black car that they spotted was sent by your brother, Redbeard?

The boy shook his head grimly.

-Nope. Truthfully, if it was my brother, no one would have noticed anything before a dozen commandos had secured the room. Therefore, the car is probably just someone from maintenance. The good thing is that our kidnappers don´t know that.

He grinned joylessly.

-They will be very careful and that will keep them engaged at least for a while.

-Why do you think it´s from maintenance? John asked as he began to work on Redbeard´s first aid.

Damn. The leg looked outright horrible. John could already see dark purple bruises forming and the swelling was going to be huge. Besides the legs position was all wrong. Redbeard moaned in pain as John as much as brushed the skin. His breathing was fast and shallow. John frowned in worry. Honestly, it would be best to bring the boy immediately to the nearest hospital and let the professionals do their job.

-It´s very simple. I´m surprised... that you didn´t work it out yourself, Victor. A building this big... naturally needs maintenance from time to time even when it´s temporally abandoned. And well, there seems to be a problem... with the pipes. They are leaking. Pretty badly even. You must have noticed that the bottoms... of our shoes were slightly wet when we arrived.

-Yeah? John frowned. Truthfully he hadn´t paid much attention to the bottoms of his shoes at that time.

-It has been... a dry autum this year. It hasn´t rained at all during the past two weeks. Therefore, it´s not likely... that we got wet outside. What naturally follows, is that... it has to have happened in the building... instead. Which should be possible only... if there is some major leakage from the water pipes. And it´s getting worse. If you had paid any attention to our kidnappers a moment ago, you would have found out that the hems... of their trousers were moist. There hasn´t been any rain since last night. I checked from the window. So the conclusion is: the water level in the building has risen. There must be... some kind of system that alarms the maintenance in case... that the humidity in the building increases... too much. Luckily my brother, with whatever he´s done, seems to have intimitated the kidnappers badly. They are... feeling a bit neurotic for now. THAT DAMN HURTS, VICTOR!

John released his hands. Redbeard gasped air as his leg settled.

-You are brilliant, Redbeard! John huffed and ruffled the younger boys hair.

John didn´t mean only the deductions. He had noticed how his friend had stopped to breathe in the middle of sentences. Talking had seemed to bring some comfort for the boy and served as a distraction so John had let him continue, but... It must have been hellish. John had been forced to pull the boy´s leg with quite a force to get it into more natural position. Now that it was accomplished the pain should sublime at least a bit.

Next, John had to think about how to support the leg. His eyes caught an office table nearby, which seemed to have mechanism familiar to him. He turned it upside down and managed to detach two of it´s screwable legs. Next he used slices of faded curtain to bind Redbeard´s leg tightly with them to form a makeshift splint.

-Better? He turned to Redbeard.

-It´s great, Victor. You´re way better than I thought.

John blushed faintly and smirked back.

-Well, now you know I´m not totally useless. But... Be careful with it. I don´t know if I managed it right.

The younger boy dismissed his worry by a wave of his hand.

-Now we just need to get ourselves out of here!

The gleam was back in his eyes and determination in his voice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi, dears!**

 **Our boys have gotten themselves into quite a dire situation here. Mycroft should start moving his lazy ass and come to help them soon! Well... we won´t see that happening in this chapter :(**

 **But I promise you, that Mycroft will have an appearance sooner or later! :D**

 **I actually plan to write at least one chapter from his point of view. (His character is one of my favorites, after all!)**

 **-everyJohn**

Redbeard was trying to prick the lock, but it didn´t seem to work out very well. The lock and the door were sturdy and the younger boy was getting impatient.

-Stupid, idiotic, door! He yelled and hit it with his fist in frustration only to regret as the pain hit back.

John couldn´t help a faint smile while looking at the childish display. Somehow, he felt reassured to know that as if to balance his massive intellect the other boy was just as massive brat.

-What if we just wait for your brother to arrive? You said it yourself, that he should be here tomorrow. I´m worried about your leg, but it´s not like you could really run away with it either.

John was not enthusiastic about his own suggestion, but Redbeard went further growling at it.

-Waiting in this kind of situation would be plain idiotic! If we wait for tomorrow, we are going to die! The boy snapped.

-Calm down, Redbeard. What do you mean by that?

-Don´t you listen a thing that I say, Victor? Do you remember my little discussion with the woman earlier? And he even told them his name. His real name!

-Yes. I remember that, but how did you come to a conclusion that we die from that?

-Lucky you, your head is so hollow that you would float in a flood. I said to the woman, that Mercury had planned to kill the kid from the beginning. I also told her that he plans to blame it on his accomplices.

John tried to ignore the rudeness.

-Yeah, but… I thought you said it to piss him off? To get the knife?.

-YES! Redbeard shrieked frustrated of his slow thinking.

-It seems to be the truth that gets people most pissed off. Worked a bit too well too, he then mumbled darkly casting a glance to his broken leg.

John shook his head trying to form a whole picture from what the boy had just told. He decided to prioritize the most worrying piece of information.

-Why do you think that we are in immediate danger now? I don´t think that the others want to kill us. And even Mercury has to take their opinion into account, if he wants to keep them on his side. Al Raymond guy seemed almost ready to rip his head off earlier. I think that even the girlfriend is almost ready to reconsider her love towards the creepy jerk.

Redbeard sighed.

-Do you know what building it is, that we are in?

John looked around perplexed. A quick view from the window revealed an impersonal cement wall of the opposite building. Behind the building rose flue-gas stacks characteristic to the industrial areas.

-My best guess would be a factory of some kind. This part is probably the office rooms, I think… he mumbled looking at the office chairs and tables in the room.

Redbeard rolled his eyes.

Then he picked a red file and threw it to the other boy.

John studied the empty file and his eyes caught on a logo on the right upper corner of the file.

-Impressions Technology? He read out loud.

-Yes that´s the name of the company. I seriously wonder, why they even bothered to cover our eyes. Well, does the name say anything to you?

-Nope.

-Of course it doesn´t. This company was huge about ten years ago. They produced parts to mobile phones, cameras, gps-techlogy and so on. They were one of the big ones on the field. Then the company was sold to a rival in very dubious terms. There was rumors going on that one of the directors betrayed the others and was actually working for the rival company. After the deal the factory was run down and many people became unemployed. That was a bad time for that to happen as at the same time regression began to affect the finances in Europe. Now listen. Here comes the important part: The child, who was kidnapped and later killed by the sadistic psychopath and his creepy accomplices, was the son of a man who was rumored to have made that deal happen. And his wife is the daughter of the rival company of that time. With the money and contacts he got from that single deal the father of the victim established a new company. That company is doing really well right now. They are actually in a situation in which they need new facilities as the present ones are turning to be too small. And here comes the irony of it all: They have bought this very building for that purpose! In the next January huge renovations are in order here. The plan is that the company will be in full activity in these facilities in the next April. Also ironically, the new company´s owner is celebrated as a savior of the economy in the area. No-one remembers the tragedy that happened ten years ago. The general director, who was blamed most about what happened lost his wealth, his name and even his friends. He killed himself on the 9th of the August ten years ago by jumping from the roof of this very building. As it´s 9th of August today that means it happened exactly ten years ago. The general manager´s name was Ronald Brown. He had a son, whose age matches roughly the age of the man who just showed us an ID of a certain Alfred Brown.

Both boys went silent. John couldn´t help thinking that it was a bit far fetched and unreal, but somehow it still felt true.

-You mean... All of this was just for revenge. Kidnapping a little boy and killing him so that the parents would suffer and getting in two assistants in hopes of a big ransom money. How do you even know all that? You were barely even born at that time! .

-I researched the background of the kidnapped boy, obviously. After all, assailant in these kind of cases is often someone close by. There is something else that makes me worry, though. I hope that I´m wrong but..., Redbeard mumbled, The days match too perfectly with his father´s suicide for it to be a coincidence. He could have waited for the exact date but chose to kill the victim merely a couple of days before the actual date. That makes me wonder... Maybe... Just maybe the grand finale is still awaiting for us. And if that´s the case then... Whatever it is, it´s going to happen today.

A haunting silence followed his words.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi, dears!**

 **Here we go again. I´ve thought about posting this chapter for a while now, but I wasn´t quite satisfied with it and well... (I was a bit lazy, to tell you the truth.) Your every comment however, makes me feel that I need to work harder. RoseJustice pointed out that I should use these ("...") to mark talking. I could change to that if you all feel that it would make it clearer. (Comment that, if you have an opinion, please!) I have written with those too, it´s just... I kind of like the flow of the story more without them. I actually tried to make this chapter with those, but I just couldn´t get it to work in the way I wanted and then changed back to my old ways. Technically it would, of course, be easy to change them afterwards, but then I think I should change it in previous chapters too, which is lots of work (I´m lazy, you remember). But if that matters, I will do it!**

 **-everyJohn**

-Don´t talk in riddles, Redbeard. You must have at least a theory. Tell me straight, John asked with a strained voice.

Redbeard shook his curly head. He was clearly annoyed.

-I´m trying to think about it. He planned this for years... And you heard him earlier. When he revealed his name, it sounded like he did it only because he thought it didn´t matter _anymore_. He hasn´t been caught. I think, he´s quite sure, he won´t be caught at all. Therefore, what does that mean?

-Could it be... Do you think, that he might plan to kill himself like his father?

Redbeard cast John a sharp glance, that made him feel foolish for talking out loud.

-Why would he kill himself? Redbeard asked.

John rolled his eyes.

-Why? I don´t know... Maybe because he is insane! Does killing a little boy to get a revenge on his parents make sense to you?

Redbeard didn´t deny it immediately and was clearly pondering his words.

-Your suggestion, surprisingly, may not be entirely stupid, after all, he admitted looking astonished.

-Thank you.

-But I still think he would want a final revenge before that, Redbeard added staring John, his small fists clenched as if daring his friend to challenge his words. John stayed wisely silent.

-He´s unpredictable. To be honest with you, I want us far from here before the dark. Sunset could be some kind of a countdown. His father jumped to his death around that time too, Redbeard told him. This time, he was grave serious.

/

After wasting another half an hour in futile attempt to get past the door, John was forced to think of other options. This way, they wouldn´t get anywhere. Even though, Redbeard stubbornly continued working on the lock, he was clearly exhausted. The younger boy´s leg had to hurt in the crouched position that pricking the lock required.

John tapped Redbeard´s shoulder gently to get his attention.

-I´ve thought about it and I think, it would be best, if I tried to escape through the window. After getting down I could alarm the police and come back here to release you.

John licked his dry lips. He still had qualms about his own plan, but he didn´t want to voice them yet.

Redbeard stood up without saying a word. The boy walked to the window and looked down from there. For a long time he stayed silent, only his long fingers tapping the window sill.

-This is high, Victor. You better not fall to your death, he finally noted flatly. That meant that he approved the plan, but it didn´t mean that he liked it. He still hadn´t looked John to eyes.

John moved next to the younger boy and looked down for the first time himself. When he witnessed the actual height, his stomach made somersaults, but he swallowed the fear not wanting to show it on his face.

-Redbeard, he mumbled instead, turning to his younger companion.

-If we go through with this, you should give me your brother´s number. If he has as much power as you claim, it would be better to call him instead of police, right? He may even have men nearby searching for you.

Redbeard wrinkled his nose to the idea, but under John´s stern gaze he wrote the phone number on a piece of a paper (the good part in being locked into an abandoned office room was that there were lots of paper and pencils available). He pushed the note almost resentfully to John´s hand.

-When someone answers, use these words: ' _The ship is under Krakens attack, but the captain won´t leave the ship'._ And tell them where this place is. My brother will handle the rest, Redbeard informed, still pouting.

John couldn´t prevent a giggle from escaping.

-Is that some kind of a code? Or does your brother just play pirates too? He teased.

-Oh, shut up, Victor! Can your mediocre brain remember it or do I need to write it down too?

John rose his hand in mock salute.

-Aye, aye sir! Our beautiful ship is crumpling under the attacks of a horrible sea monster, Kraken. The waves are roaring high and men and even rats are leaving the ship but our brave captain alone stands on the deck facing the death eye to eye. Despite the immense danger captain Redbeard doesn´t intend to abandon his ship at all!

He put his soul into reciting and mimicked Kraken´s wiggling tentacles and the roaring waves with his hands.

-You romanticized it, Redbeard blamed him eyes narrowed.

John pretended to be shocked of the criticism.

-But I suppose, I´d like to see my brother´s expression if you did that to him on phone, Redbeard added grinning.

They both burst in laughter.

John was satisfied with himself for making the tension drop. Soon, however, his expression severed as his old qualms returned.

-I think, I should go as soon as possible. We don´t know, how long the maintenance will keep the kidnappers busy. It´s just that... I don´t like leaving you alone here. Mercury will find out sooner or later that his knife is gone and he will be furious. You can neither escape or fight with that leg of yours, Redbeard. Even waiting for too long is bad.

Redbeard shrugged his shoulders. John had a feeling that the same thought had crossed his mind.

-What can we do? I´m stuck here and someone needs to get help. There is no way, that I could climb down with this leg.

John was about resign to the fact, but then a thought came to him and his face brightened.

-Well, we can´t get you out but why should we make it easy for them to get in either, he plotted eyes shining.

It took a moment for Redbeard to catch on (which tells in how much pain he had to be). He looked back to his friend new hope in his light blue eyes.

-Yes! You are right. Let´s block the door!


	11. Chapter 11

/

Repairmen had truly bought them valuable time. They were lucky that they had stayed for a long time instead of a quick inspection, but based on the position of the sun and the deepness of the colors the day was turning to late afternoon and they would finish the workday soon. If they wanted to do something, now was the perfect time to go for it. Soon it could be too late.

John dragged office tables and chairs to form a barrier around the door. Meanwhile, Redbeard managed to cram a ballpoint pen into the lock hole to block the key from entering. That little sabotage made sure that Mercury and his accomplices would have a hard time in breaking in.

The boys exchanged mischievous glances.

Then John picked up a chair, and swayed it in air. He did his best to be as silent as possible, but the noise of the breaking glass could not be completely blocked. Steps approached the door and they could hear Bella´s bracelets clatter. John and Redbeard exchanged panicked looks. Then Redbeard suddenly pushed John hard. He yelped in surprise as he fell to the ground.

-What the h... He started. But Redbeard beat him to it.

-Look at, what you have done, idiot, the younger boy snapped at him.

-What have I...? You pushed me yourself!

-I didn´t! You fell on the stupid computer and broke it! Argh... There are pieces all around!

-What the hell are you doing there? The woman´s high pitched voice snapped. She had stopped at the door and was probably searching for a key.

Redbeard nodded to John before answering to her.

-Why did you put me in with that idiot! He is swaying around even though he can´t even stand up with the binds. Now he even managed to crush one of the computers laying around. There are bits and pieces everywhere. What are you going to do if I hurt myself! Come to clean it up NOW! Redbeard whined.

-What do you think I am, kid? Your personal maid or something? If you are afraid of getting hurt stay still and don´t move around.

-Just hurry and clean it up! You are a woman after all.

John gave thumbs up, amazed by his friend´s guts. Even through the locked door, they could feel the chilling fury caused by that single comment. It took a moment for the woman to calm enough to form words. John made a note to himself: Absolutely no woman, wanted to be defined as the cleaner of the group.

-SHUT UP! Lay on the f**king pieces. Roll on them! I don´t F**king care! And If I hear any noise coming from there, I will personally make sure that, what Mercury started, is finished! The woman shrieked and turned sharply on her high heels.

They heard her steps getting further from them. It seemed like Redbeard´s reverse psychology had achieved the desired result. Both boys let out a long sigh of relief.

/

John cracked the sharp edges in the corners of the hole and placed a worn out curtain on the frame to protect himself from the remaining bits of glass.

-You do that so well, that one would thing you´re used to breaking through windows, Redbeard chaffed.

-Oh really? For all you know, I could have very exciting secret life out there, John answered lightly and winked playfully.

Redbeard rolled his eyes, obviously not believing.

When John looked at him, he noticed that something was off in the smiling boy. Redbeard was pale from the pain, but not only from that. Redbeard hid it well, but once paid attention to, it became obvious and was very understandable. He was terrified. Hurt and in pain, alone at the mercy of sadistic kidnappers having to trust in the words of someone he had known not even for a full day yet, why wouldn´t he be?

John squeezed the younger boy´s shoulder gently but firmly.

-I won´t abandon you, Redbeard. I swear. Wait a little bit and I will be back with reinforcements, he murmured to the boy.

The words felt too empty to convey his devotion and John unwrapped the worn out scarf from his neck and tied it loosely around Redbeard´s. The younger boy looked at him with confused eyes.

-That scarf may be ugly but it´s one of a kind and important to me. I will come to get it back.

-I don´t want your dirty scarf... The boy pouted, but John couldn´t take him too seriously as the corners of his mouth twitched in desire to smile and thin fingers held tightly on the knitted cloth.


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, sweeties! Time to get somewhere with this. I´m not sure if this is any good, but I decided I´m done with fixing it. Tell me what you think about it, please! :) By the way, the story still continues after this, but this will be the last chapter (at least for now) from John´s point of view. Next one will be from Mycroft´s (Who else has been waiting for that?).**

 **-everyJohn**

There were old rusted fire ladders a couple of windows away. He just had to slide carefully from one window sill to other. The problem was that there was hardly anything to hold on while doing it. And there was a long fall underneath...

John pinched his nose and focused to breath in and out. He closed his eyes. As he slowly let the air out, he felt his head clear. That was better. Much better.

John´s mouth was pressed into tight line and his eyebrows were almost knitted together in concentration. He stepped carefully on the window sill and tried to estimate the distance. Little by little he inched sideways. His fingertips were soon tired from grabbing a hold from small cracks on the wall. He almost slipped once but somehow succeeded in getting his balance back. The rough cement wall however scratched his left wrist making a bleeding graze.

He hardly believed it himself, when he finally made it safely to the ladders.

He felt Redbeard´s lucid eyes following himself all the way down. After finally hitting the ground, John looked up to wave his hand. The younger boy nodded back determinedly.

The black delivery car was still at the parking area, but John didn´t see the men from the maintenance anywhere. He came to a conclusion that they were still inside the building probably doing something to fix the pipes.

-Redbeard, the maintenance is still here. I think someone has to be guarding the yard. What should I do? He whispered so that Redbeard could hear.

-Can you slowly get closer to the entrance without being seen from the windows?

-I could try. Should I?

-I thought that you risked your life to descend from the window to try an escape not to hide for forever, Redbeard answered sarcastically.

John rolled his eyes and began to stealthily progress towards the entrance going by the walls and hiding behind the bushes.

/

-You disagree with what I am doing to the kids, huh? YOU DISAGREE?! You didn´t think that you would be a part of something like that when you agreed? No, you thought it would be just pretty, tidy, innocent f**king KIDNAPPING!

John almost pissed to his pants, when he suddenly heard Mercury´s voice yelling just above his head. His feet gave in and he covered into tight ball barely daring to breath. It took a while for him to understand that the man was talking to someone else. Or more specifically yelling... He saw two shadows flash in the window above himself, but wasn´t sure who the other one was.

John couldn´t hear the other person´s answer to Mercury´s bursting, but that didn´t matter as Mercury repeated his words.

-You aren´t a murderer? Really? Kind of late to say so now... Oh, so you don´t want to be part of this anymore? What are you going to do then? Walk to the police and confess? NO, YOU AREN`T.

Then Mercury´s voice got lower and changed to pure evil:

-I´m not a kind man, Raymond... And you know, how I am not above hurting children if needed. You have a son and you know what I mean.

Now John heard the other man´s voice loud and clear.

-IF YOU TOUCH EVEN A HAIR OF MY SON, YOU F**KING PSYCHOPATH...!

-I wont... I won´t if you just keep quiet and do your job. Tomorrow... just until tomorrow and everything will be resolved. Little bit of patience and you and your son won´t need to see or even think about me ever again.

John heard the door slam as the hulking man rushed out from the room. Then Mercury himself seemed throw something heavy to the ceiling. John heard him furiously gasping air in vain attempt to calm down.

-That brainless gorilla... If you weren´t to blow up with this damn building very soon, I would kill you myself, he hissed.

John heard the man take couple of stabilizing breaths. After that his voice sounded different. It sounded younger, almost childish.

-Be calm, Freddie. He´s not going to go to the police... If I get the son, he´s on my peck and call. It´s all fine, the man reassured himself.

Then John heard him mumble something like he was chanting.

-The punishment is so near. Nothing can go wrong. Only a bit more and no perpetrators, no witnesses or even... crime scene. Police will never find out the true motive either, as I´ve burnt it all. It will be impossible to solve. Then they will truly know what it feels like to not know... My father demanded an explanation for so many times! He never met him. He didn´t understand it then, but he will learn it soon. Building his career with that cheated money... That FU*KING BASTARD! He didn´t have time to answer my father´s calls or letters! We shall see, who he is going to direct his calls and letters to in order to get answers about the death of his son!

Mercury´s voice rose with anger as he spoke. Then as if remembering, what he was doing he suddenly quieted. When he spoke again his voice was much softer but every bit as murderous as before.

-He will soon know, what it is like. How it feels to be left theorizing and guessing! Not able to move on. My father made a jump. We shall see if his choice is the same. I think, he will lose his mind. Just like my father. Just like me...

John´s eyes widened. Blow up. Burn. The need to destroy the building was actually quite obvious. To Mercury, that was his father´s legacy, like his father´s second child, that had been cheated from him. Mercury wouldn´t leave it in the hands of those he regarded as murderers and betrayers. And from his words it seemed that he didn´t intend to leave intact a thing that could help to solve the mystery _. 'A crime without perpetrators, witnesses or even crime scene.'_ It was a chilling realization to John, when he understood that the witnesses, that were to be burnt to dust with everything else, meant actually him and Redbeard. A big explosion and fire would be needed in order to do all that. But it wasn´t impossible. Definitely not for Mercury. An evil, childish, selfish but perfect revenge. Oh god, this was so messed up.

John´s thoughts swirled like hive of disturbed bees, but he didn´t dare to move before he heard Mercury to leave the room. John let out a strangled breath, that he had kept in for a long time. He settled shakily on four legs, not wanting to risk rising his head. (Besides, he was not entirely sure if his feet would even work properly after what he had just witnessed). He began crawling through the yard towards the gates. His heart beat like thunder in his ears and the distance seemed endless.

/

-The pipes were turned on and off without proper preparation... Damage wasn´t too bad, but we checked everything as we were here. Yes. There were some marks of living there. Yes, I think that maybe couple of homeless people were keeping their quarters here... No, we didn´t see anyone. Either they were gone or hiding. ...But, the locks should be changed. Yes, I thought so too... We should come back tomorrow. We could look around a bit to see if they have reached anywhere else. Mine and Tom´s day is almost up for today. So tomorrow? Of course I notify you first if I find out something like this. Yes, thank you for yourself. See you tomorrow, sir. Good bye!

John was hiding behind aronia bushes near the delivery car when one of the men from the maintenance walked out from the building. He was talking to a phone and opened the back of the delivery car clumsily with his other hand. He but phone away and turned to where he had just come from.

-Hey! Ready to go, lad?

-Just a moment, Matt. I´m smoking one cigarette before going. Care to join me? His companion answered.

The man scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders. He patted his coveralls and seemed delighted to find a cigarette pack from one of the pockets.

-Wait a moment. I´m coming, he yelled to the younger man and soon disappeared around the corner. The back of the car was left open.

John could hardly believe his luck. The open back was just a couple of steps away from his hiding place. Furthermore there was no clear view to there from any of the windows. The open doors blocked the view from even more directions.

Without wasting time he leaped in and hid himself behind the tools and heavy machines as silently and quickly as he could. Something poked painfully his back, but John willed the discomfort away and forced himself to wait perfectly still. Luckily, it didn´t take long for the men to return. They barely looked inside as they tossed the toolbox in. Only minutes later John could hear the low burr of the engine and soon after that he felt how the car jerked forward.

As soon as he was sure that they had moved past the gates he began to yell at the top of his lungs simultaneously banging the walls of the car to get attention.

The car was driven to the side of the road. He could hear muffled voices from outside and soon someone opened the doors. John practically flew out.

-What the hell. There is a kid!

-Were you one of the homeless living in the factory? How did you end up in our car?

-What the hell has happened to you, boy? You look like shite. Did someone beat you up?

John rose his bruised and dirty face to look at both of the men. He hadn´t eaten, drunk, washed, brushed his hair or changes his clothes since yesterday evening. The men couldn´t be blamed for taking him as homeless. But the situation was far more severe than that. Redbeard was still there and he needed to make the call.

-Should I call someone. Police? Or child welfare or something? Or should we take him to hospital for health check first, Matt. He is pretty hurt...

The younger man had dug out his mobile phone and was wondering where to call with it, when John grabbed it from his hands.

-Hey! What are you doing?

-Oi, give it back boy.

The older man tried to snap the phone from his hands to give it back to his friend, but John protected it instinctively pulling it pack from the reaching hand. He took a step away from the men brain already working on the advice Redbeard had given to him and not noticing the brief exchange of glances among the men.

He was just about to press the call button when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He instinctively twisted himself and ripped himself from the hold by jumping backwards. He backed away looking suspiciously at the two approaching men and keeping his distance from them.

-Give my friend´s phone back to him!

-I... I can´t, John mumbled stepping further away. When the two men lunged at him he turned on his heels and ran. He heard them running after himself. The older man cursed and called him damn brat and nasty thief.

John knew he should stop to explain the situation, but the men looked furious. He didn´t know if they would listen. He didn´t care if they called the police. He just needed to call Redbeard´s brother first!

John didn´t know the area and ended up just randomly choosing one path from the possible ones he came across to. The two men were breathing just behind him. As John turned from a corner he almost hit a woman with a stroller. In the last possible moment he succeeded to jump aside to prevent the collision but lost his balance and fell painfully to the ground. Two men were holding him before he could get back to his feet. The woman´s eyes widened as he saw John´s beaten up appearance.

Before John managed to utter a word, she had opened his mouth.

-What has happened to you, dear? You look terrible! She huffed. He cast a suspicious glance to the two men obviously wondering their involvement in it. It took a moment for John to catch enough breath to talk.

-I-it´s not them... I just wanted to make a call. They thought I stole the phone. I meant to return it though. I just needed to make a call, really badly.

-Why didn´t you say so then, the older man grumbled.

John blushed with embarrassment.

-I was scared. I didn´t think you would listen and before I noticed I was already running.

-Well, let the boy call. It´s obviously important! We can talk more after he´s done with that, the woman ordered.

She sounded strict enough with her piercing eyes and hands held tightly on her hips.

Two men exchanged glances looking now embarrassed.

-I still don´t trust the boy, the older man grumbled.

-He may just say it to get us out of guard so that he can escape again.

John, who was getting increasingly impatient, shoved the phone to the younger man who was it´s owner.

-It´s okay. You can hold the phone. You can make the call. I don´t care, just hurry! It´s matter of life and death!

The older man opened his mouth, probably to complain but the younger man silenced him, took the phone and pressed the call button and rose it to his ear. They all stared at him holding their breath. John licked his lips nervously.

It felt like forever before the younger man´s expression changed and he tightened his hold of the phone indicating that someone had answered.

-No... I´m just calling because... Where did I get this number? Yes... I was just coming to that. Me and my friend work in this maintenance company and we got a call about broken pipes... Yes I understand that you don´t have time. Just... This boy said that it was very important to call you.

The man´s eyes widened. A female voice seemed to explain how he must have pressed the wrong number and how they were really busy at the moment. It sounded like the woman may shut the call any time now. John panicked.

-Tell them, that the Kraken has attacked, but captain won´t leave the ship! He yelled.

-It´s just that the boy looks like...What? Kraken has attacked the ship? What are you saying?

-The boy is crazy, we shouldn´t have listened him. Let´s just take him to hospital. It could be something serious. Tell the woman, you are talking to, that we are sorry to bother, the older man mumbled while holding John back.

-No, that´s a code! He has to say it! John desperately tried to make them understand.

But it seemed that something about Kraken and ship had rang the bell in the other end of the connection.

The receiver´s aqttitude made 180 degrees turn. The younger man didn´t seem as apologetic anymore and the other side seemed to flood him in questions. He was just about to hand the phone to John when they all heard a loud bang from a distance.

John´s face paled.

-Hey, boy. They want you to take the phone.

Without really registering what was going on and looking at the direction of the noise John instinctively reached to take the object that was offered to him, but right then several bangs similar to the earlier one were heard. Now John recognized them as gun shots.

-Redbeard, he whispered.

-They are going to kill him! He then shrieked and looked wildly at the others.

Their faces stayed confused and he grew desperate.

He shoved the phone back to the younger man.

-Tell them that his plan is blow up that damn factory. Whole factory and everything inside! He´s totally insane. He plans to destroy it all! He doesn´t want there to be any evidence at all. I think he plans to kill himself... And I heard him say that he´s going to blow up his two accomplishes with the building! And Redbeard is still there! He needs to be saved... His leg is broken... He can´t escape by himself! He shouted.

Apparently the woman in the phone had heard his words as she was asking frantic questions to Tom, who did his best to answer them.

Again John heard gun shots and now he didn´t stop to think. He turned on his heels and made a rush towards the factory building that he now saw only hundreds of meters behind himself. He distantly recognized that the others yelled after him, but he could hardly hear them through the rush of his own blood. Redbeard was fighting for his life. He needed to be by his side.

/

John was in the middle of the yard when he saw the lights of the helicopter on the sky. The flying apparatus began to swirl around the factory searching for a place to land. He was almost sure that the chopper was Redbeard´s brothers doing. And THAT was bloody fast!

The lights of the helicopter, as relieving as they were, made him also notice the brilliant red of sunset that painted the walls and the plants like blood. It was already that late.

John rushed into the office wing of the factory. It was terribly difficult to find his way back to the right room through the stairs and corridors. It didn´t help the matter that last time his eyes had been covered.

His own running steps echoed in the empty hallways. Anxiety strangled his throat making his breathing even harder than it already was. As John run with all his might, he wondered what he could do for the boy even if he found him. At least he could tell them about Mercury´s plans to kill them all. Maybe that, would cause even Bella´s loyalty to waver. Maybe he could only slow Mercury down for couple of minutes or seconds... But Redbeard´s brother had to be near now, so maybe that would be enough. And if he died... He refused to think that. If he died, he died. But he had left his scarf to the boy. He had promised to return. And worse than to die, John knew, was to die alone.

He heard gunshots again and ran to their direction.

John was at the bottom of the stairs when he saw someone rush out from the room holding something heavy. Most likely a person. Not big enough for an adult so a child.

-R-redbeard...? REDBEARD! He screamed to the top of his lungs.

The man, who was holding the boy didn´t even slow down. He climbed the stairs two at a time, not letting the weight on his shoulders slow him down. He looked extremely physically fit. John guessed he was a professional. Probably one of Redbeard´s brother´s men.

John rushed upwards. As he arrived to the door, he looked briefly into the room. Book shelves and tables they had used as a barricade lied around scattered and marked with bullet holes. The room was full of dust and it took a while before he could tell that two people were laying on the ground in a pool of blood. One of them was the Bella. She was dead. Shot to head. Other one was Mercury. Still bleeding. Alive. Shot to chest, most likely fatally. Also stabbed to arm. Likely by his own knife hold by Redbeard. He would die soon from the blood loss, but somehow miraculously, he seemed to be conscious at the moment. His eyes met John´s and he smirked. Mercury gave him a genuine madman laugh coughing some blood as he snickered:

-You kids really trashed my plans. ...should have killed you, when I had a chance. But you die anyway. Three minutes. Three minutes and the bombs go off. And when they go off, they will light the gunpowder and gasoline that I´ve left laying around the building. We´ll see very pretty fire. If you run fast. Who knows, you may make it. Though, I don´t think so. There is nothing anymore that can stop it. Three minutes is too short. Ha... H-hah. It seems like, I´m going to see some nice fireworks before passing away.

John heard something heavy to drop to the ground right behind his back. He spun around to see what had caused the sound. Everything that followed, he remembered as a swirl of incoherent decisions and actions. He kind of knew, what must have happened but he couldn´t be completely sure how much of it was real and which moments were actually gaps filled by his brain trying to make sense of it all. The thing he was quite sure to be true and which he desperately hoped to be true, was the sight of a chopper taking off from the rooftop only a couple of minutes before everything became a flaming hell.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi!**

 **Here comes the Mycroft chapter I´ve been talking about. I hopefully you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And please give me some feed back! :)**

 **EveryJohn**

The beginning of September had been exceptionally dry, but as if to compensate for it, the rest of the autumn it rained twice as much as usually. Today was the first day in weeks that the sun presented itself at all for the Londoners. The ground was, of course, still wet and muddy. Sun glittered in water drops as Mycroft´s patent leather shoes steadily punctured the images of blue sky reflected in the puddles. His umbrella was for once without the obvious use, but he carried it anyway. It had become kind of his trademark and in London you never know when the weather takes a turn to worse. Besides, Mycroft found the thing useful also in other, slightly more creative, ways. (He had found out that pointing people with the sharp tip made them nervous of being poked into eye and therefore easier to handle.)

He greeted politely a man who worked as a receptionist in The Palace of Westminister as he passed by. He made it mostly out of a habit and was surprised, when the man stopped to talk to him.

-Good afternoon, sir! He was greeted.

Then the man hesitated for a moment, but then seemed to pick up his courage. He licked his lips and looked intently at Mycroft to the eyes.

-There... hmm ...has been something that has bothered me for a while. I just couldn´t get peace of mind without asking... I hope that you can excuse my rudeness, sir. I just have to ask if the boy, who was in the news couple of months ago and was involved in that explosion at the abandoned factory, isn´t actually sir´s younger brother?

Mycroft´s nose twitched barely noticeably. He thought to himself, that it was incredibly tactless of the man to remind him of that unfortunate incident.

It had been two months since Sherlock´s kidnapping. Two whole months since the succesful rescue operation, he minded to say. It should have been over, crossed out and filed away in a corner of some rarely visited room of his mind fortress. It wasn´t. Because his stupid sentimental little brother was still not able to let go.

The retrieval had been successful. Though, the escape had been a close one. One of his most trusted agents had invaded the building very soon after his secretary had heard the gunshots through the phone line. The agent had killed the assailants in the room and carried Sherlock to the waiting helicopter in nick of time. They had left the roof barely in time to avoid the sea of flames.

Mycroft recalled the call he had gotten from the agent from the rooftop.

- _I have The Pirate Captain secured. He is injured but conscious and not in immediate danger. Something unexpected has occured. It seems that there is another child in the building. We heard him at the stairway as he called for The Pirate Captain. I didn´t have orders regarding anyone else so I prioritised securing the original target. Should I go back down and go after him, sir?_

Mycroft had considered it for a fleeting moment. He remembered the boy, who had made sure that Sherlock´s request for help in a form of a secret code was conveyed to his secretary. If it was the same boy, it was extraordinarily stupid of him to return to the place he had just succeeded in fleeing.

 _-Agent, did you eliminate the danger in the room before leaving with The Pirate Captain?_

 _-Two people with guns are killed. One woman and a man who matches the information you sent me regarding Freddie Brown._

 _-There wasn´t anyone else?_

 _-No, sir._

 _-Right. I want you to evacuate as soon as possible. We will send more agents in later but now the immediate goal is to secure The Pirate Captain and get him far from the dangerous building. Leave with him in the helicopter. I shall send another team there with more agents and a bomb squad. Thank you for your work, agent._

 _-Sir..._

 _-Is there something more to discuss, agent?_

 _-Your littl... I mean The Pirate Captain wants to talk to you. Is that okay, sir?_

Mycroft had sighed all bearingly and given his permission.

 _-Mycroft..._

It had been his little brother´s voice.

 _-Sherlock. I truly hope you have learned something from this._

 _-Mycroft. Order your agent to go back and get Victor!_

 _-Don´t be ridiculous, Sherlock._

 _-He came back for me. He said he would so he did. We can´t leave him here._

 _-Don´t be stupid, Sherlock. Use your brilliant brain for once. I promise to send in more people. They will take him with them. You will be seeing your dear Victor in the hospital bed next to yours very soon, but now you must leave with the chopper. Don´t be difficult. You have really made mommy worry this time._

 _-No you don´t get it Mycroft. The bomb may explore at any minute now!_

 _-Excactly, and therefore I want you far away from there as soon as possible._

 _-MYCROFT!_

 _-I said no, Sherlock._

He had heard some noises from the background and the agent had taken the phone again.

 _-He refuses to listen. What should I do, sir?_

 _-You have some relaxants in the chopper, right? I think they would do good for The Pirate Captain right now. He seems to be quite hysterical. Not at all like himself._

There had been some fighting noises and he had heard Sherlock cursing his name. Then the agent was on the line again.

 _-We are taking of now, sir._

 _-Good_ , he had said.

/

For Mycroft´s defense one must say that he genuinely had planned to do just what he had told his little brother on the phone. However, before any of that could be accomplished the first explosion went off and then a string of them. In nearby block of flats many windows scattered, when the shock wave hit them. Then the whole building complex that formed the abandoned factory caught fire so hot and destructive, that it took almost two days for firemen to get it under control.

After the two weeks long clearance of the ruins Mycroft got a word regarding the remains of an unknown teenage boy found from the left wing of the building. They also found an adult body next to the boy. That was, presumably, the third kidnapper. Both were in unrecognizable condition.

That wasn´t the way Mycroft had wanted it to end. However the case should have been closed after that. But it had not been over then and it wasn´t that now.

Mycrof refused to blame himself. Still a tiny uncertain voice in the back of his mind kept asking, if he had been a tiny bit too full of himself. A bit too sure. A bit too arrogant. He had underestimated his little brother´s skills of deception and his eagerness to endanger himself. He hadn´t understood the scale of danger the boy had gotten himself into. He had also overestimated the time they had in their hands. He who prided himself almost infallible had made numerous mistakes in the span of two days, but he refused to think off them as mistakes. He refused to feel guilty. He reminded himself that, Sherlock was still alive and broken leg was healing without problems. Except that the leg, though, it had initially looked frightening, was the least of his concerns. Sherlock was breathing and his heart was beating, but he didn´t smile or laugh. He didn´t even cry. The childish innocence of believing in Mycroft´s ability to protect him from everything bad in the world was gone. The boy hadn´t really eaten or slept for weeks. He had been allowed to recover at home, but with his deteriorating general condition there was ongoing discussion about his hospitalization. Sherlock had met about ten different children´s psycho therapists but it was clear that even professionals couldn´t help someone who stubbornly refused to be helped. Mommy was worried sick.

He was abashed how disgustingly selfish Sherlock could be. He was dissapointed in himself also.

It had been mommy´s idea for him to talk to Sherlock after the remains of his ´friend´ (Mycroft wondered, if someone actually could be called a friend after an acquaintance of mere 24 hours) were found. Both his parents and also majority of psychotherapists thought that it would be beneficial for Shelock.

As a first thing after stepping into Sherlock´s room, Mycroft needed to dive quickly to avoid a flying chemistry book. Then Sherlock´s almost murderous voice had asked:-What are you doing here, Mycroft!

Of course the boy had guessed. He was clever (though not as clever as Mycroft himself) and observant. What else could he be there for than to talk about the recent happenings?

However, Mycroft patiently explained this to him.

-I offer my condolences, little brother. They found Victor´s remains today. I didn´t wish for it, but now that his death is actually official, maybe you can accept better the things that have happened, he had informed the boy.

The tone was the same that he used if he had to inform the family of the agent killed in action about what had happened. Somehow, it felt a bit awkward with his little brother. After all, this Victor wasn´t actually Sherlock´s family. He was just someone he had met for one day and because of the unique circumstances against all odds grown fond to. Sherlock didn´t even know the boys name (except that makeshift one he had himself made up for the boy). Truthfully, Mycroft doubted that the friendship would have continued later even if the boy had survived. Sherlock was an unique boy and no normal boy could keep up with him. Mycroft kept wisely these thoughts to himself.

The boy had been pretty brave to escape through the window and even coming back afterwards, he had to admit. (Well bravery was only a kinder word for stupidity.) It´s not that Mycroft wasn´t grateful for the unknown boy. He was. The boy had, after all, indirectly saved a life of a child, who would most likely one day become a great man. Mycroft had no doubt that Sherlock´s brilliant brain would undoubtedly save hundreds of lives one day, when he was older. It was a pity that the boy had died, but at least his family could be proud that he had ended up saving an important person in the process.

Sherlock hadn´t taken Mycroft´s news well. Not well at all. He had scremed at him. Thrown him with things and blamed it all on him.

-You killed him! You couldn´t stand the fact that I had finally made a real friend. And you KILLED HIM! I HATE YOU, MYCROFT! Sherlock had cried.

Mycroft had felt a pain on his chest, that he had thought of himself incapable of feeling. Before he could stop himself the bitter thing on tip of tongue slipped out.

-I killed him? Me? Are you sure, Sherlock. You got him mixed in this. It was your recklessness, your stupid baseless self confidence that resulted to this. I cleaned after your mess the best I could. As I always do. I use my connections and my time and... its my fault? Really? It´s time for you to grow up, Sherlock. You think you are so clever, but actually you are stupid little boy whose stupidity endangers others and who blames others when his reckless game falls into pieces.

Mycroft regretted immediately when he saw his little brother´s face become white as sheet.

-I... I´m not stupid, he whispered, sounding a bit unsure.

-I´m not stupid, Mycroft. I´m clever. I get the best grades in my school. I´m not stupid, he insisted.

-Even if you get good grades in some average school, it doesn´t mean that you don´t make some really stupid decisions, Mycroft stated.

Right at that moment someone knocked on the door. Their mother peeked carefully inside.

-I heard you shouting. Is something wrong, dears?

Without saying a word Sherlock ran to their mothers arms and buried his head to her chest. His shoulders shook from crying. Mycroft could hear his muffled voice.

-Mycroft said that I´m stupid. Tell him, that it´s not true, mom! He said that it´s my fault that Victor is dead. That he´s dead because... because I´m stupid. It´s not! IT`S NOT! And he´s not dead... He cant be, mom. He just can´t. No-one has ever liked me except you, father and My. He thought that I was brilliant! He listened to me and he thought that I was brilliant! I´m not stupid. Mycroft is wrong. Tell him that he´s wrong!

Mycroft had looked at mommy patting Sherlock´s dark curls and hugging him tightly. She told Sherlock repeatedly that Mycroft hadn´t meant it like that. That Mycroft had just been worried about him like they all. Mycroft had felt confused and helpless in front of the crying Sherlock. Emotions he certainly didn´t like. He couldn´t understand what was it in his words that had hit the boy into such a tender spot. He had exited the room silently, when it looked like neither of them would notice.

After that things had gotten somewhat better. Mycroft had been right, when thinking that official news of the death of Victor would bring some closure to the happened. Sherlock was forced to face the facts. The boy collected himself somehow but just like he never got back his childhood chubbiness after losing it while recovering from the kidnapping he never seemed to get over, what had happened on that day with Mycroft. He hardly smiled and when he did the smile was either fake or sardonic. It was as if there was huge invisible wall around him divining him from other people. Mycroft wasn´t the only one. He never seemed to let anyone truly close after that. It was supposed to be finally over, but it seemed as thought it never would be.

The only time Sherlock had voluntarily come to Mycroft after that day had been, when he had reluctantly asked his help in order to find Victors real identity and his parents. Mycroft had thought it would be easy task for him and so had probably Sherlock, but it had been anything but that. Not only did Sherlock not know the boys name, he didn´t know his exact age, his school or his sports team (not even which exact sport the boy played). And what he knew was so vague that it didn´t help much. Initials M H scribbled on the other side of his sweatsuit trousers`leg. Two inches longer than Sherlock. Sporty. Blond hair. From a poor household. Wishes to become a doctor.

Biggest let down was that no-one had asked after the boy. It seemed like no-one matching the description even remotely had gone missing in London during the time frame of the kidnapping.

If went by his height alone he could be anything around Sherlock´s age to couple of years younger or older, which also meant that he could be either in primary or in secondary school. Mycroft had asked for the class pictures of all possible grades from every school in London and given them to Sherlock in hopes that he would notice the boy from pictures. He didn´t. That wasn´t totally unexpected. Many children were sick every year,when the pictures were taken and some of the parents didn´t even want their children to appear in the pictures at all.

The outward description of the mystery boy wasn´t very informative as it could match about half of school boys of that age. Not fat or thin. Quite muscular. Sandy brown hair. The poor home, dead mother, an older sister and an alcoholic father should have narrowed the search. Actually they narrowed it too much as no one fitting to the description had gone missing.

/

-Sir?

Mycroft forced himself back to the present day from the fortress of his memories and saw a worried face of the receptionist he had just been talking to.

-What did you ask again, mister Jones?

-I just was curious if the boy who was kidnapped around two months ago and whose picture was shared in the news was actually your younger brother, sir.

-Why are you asking? Mycroft inquired.

-Well... The receptionist shrugged his shoulders.

-Actually there was this young boy here, when I arrived for my turn two weeks ago. He was talking to the person working on the reception before me and I overheard him talking. He claimed that he had been kidnapped with some other boy. He said that he didn´t know the boy´s name but it was the boy, who was on the news some time ago. He said that the boy had told him that his brother works for the government. He didn´t know the name of his friend or the friend´s brother, just that the friend´s brother worked here and was someone important. It was quite unbelievable story and there was not much the receptionist could do, with only that information, anyway. She told the boy that she could not reveal him confidential information about our guests. The boy was really disappointed. He said that he had tried everything he could think off and this was his last chance as he would be leaving London on the next day. After he was gone I came to think of you as I remembered that you told me once about your little brother, who is prone to danger. Hey, Sir? What came to you?

-You still have the security camera film of that time? Mycroft asked with hoarse voice.

The receptionis shook his head.

-Oh, I´m sorry. It has already been two weeks since then and we have instruction to overwrite them with new ones after two weeks if nothing is reported in that time. What is it? Do you know him? Was it really your brother who was kidnapped? The receptionist asked.

Mycroft just shook his head. Inside his brain million different thoughts raced like crazy.

-Do you remember anything else about him?

-Unfortunately, I don´t. There was not much from the beginning and I didn´t really pay that much attention. I can ask the other receptionist, though, the one who actually talked with him, if you´d like?

Mycroft nodded slowly. He still thought that the boy they were searching for couldn´t possibly be alive. He had seen the remains of his skull himself. He admitted that the boy´s story fitted well with that one his brother had told, but it was more than likely that some of it had leaked and now some intrusive journalist had paid to some random boy to perform the role in order to get the receptionist to reveal the true identity of the mysterious boy, whose face had been in every news for a short time and who was thought to have been kidnapped.

When the other receptionist couldn´t tell much more, Mycroft decided not to mention it to Sherlock. It could possibly do more bad than good to the boy now that he had finally accepted the death of his friend. They had been chasing shadows long enough. It was time to stop searching for the parents of the mystery boy.

On that evening, when Mycoft came to home he had a cleaned up skull with him. He talked with Sherlock once again in his room. This time it went a bit better. Sherlock listened silently, when his brother told him that he had decided that there were some secrets that could stay hidden and some puzzles that didn´t need solving. The whole time, Sherlock held the cleaned up skull in his hands. He let his long fingers to slide on it´s sides. When Mycroft had asked to get it back. Sherlock flat out refused.

-He is my friend. No one else has claimed him. Not even his family are searching for him. Therefore he´s mine and I get to keep him, he stated stubbornly.

Mycroft considered it briefly. He was weak against his little brother´s requests after all and police had already conducted all the necessary tests on the remains. He called a few phone calls and nodded then reluctantly.

-You can keep him, Locky, if you want. At least as long as no-one else comes for him. I hope that you treat the skull with the necessary discretion though. Try to remember that it´s your dead friend´s and show him some respect.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi!**

 **The kids have finally grown up (which is kind of sad... But, hey, that is life!).**

 **In this chapter, I will concentrate on John´s life before meeting Sherlock again. I wasn´t sure, how much I should elaborate it, but I really liked writing about it... I´d appreciate feedback! :)**

 **-everyJohn**

Years passed and Sherlock soon forgot his initial dream of becoming a pirate captain and put all his time and effort into becoming the greatest detective there had ever been.

During his teen years there had been a case of a young boy, who drowned in a swimming pool. Sherlock had been greatly upset, when no-one had taken opinions in account during the investigation. After that it had not taken long for him to begin his first experiences with drugs.

From ages 16 to 24 Mycroft lived in constant fear of getting a call telling that his younger brother had been found somewhere either overdosed or badly beaten. He used whatever means he could to save his little brother from his own reckless behavior (including bribery, blackmail and forced rehabilitations with world known specialists). Nothing helped.

Then, suddenly, without any warning Sherlock had changed the down whirl direction of his life once again. He had voluntarily went through the rehabilitation, which Mycroft couldn´t have forced him to take only a couple of weeks earlier. Sherlock had worked himself clean of drugs and had began to consult police in especially difficult investigations. (Apparently a police officer called Lestrade had promised to provide him with suitable cases as long as he stayed clean.) Around that time Sherlock had also rented an apartment from Baker Street. His landlady was a nice, elderly widow and at first Mycroft had been sure that his younger brother would be kicked out sooner or later, but to his surprise the land lady, miss Hudson, loved his bother dearly and didn´t seem to mind his eccentric habits.

The very first thing Sherlock had brought to his new place had been the polished skull, which he placed carefully on a dresser, in good view.

Sherlock´s life was now as good and proper as Mycroft had ever even hoped it to be (considering that it was his little brother´s life, of course). Only problem was that the apartment was too big and expensive for Sherlock to keep alone and it was difficult to find a flat mate, who wouldn´t run away while screaming after coming to contact with dismembered body parts (Sherlocks´s experiments).

 **In Afganistan**

-Put that thing away, boy. Or someone might actually get hurt, John suggested talking highlightedly slowly, every fiber in his body concentrating on being as peaceful and unthreatening as possible. The young Afghan man seemed to only tighten his hold on the hunting riffle. He had this wild look in his brown eyes as he shouted agitatedly something in his own language. He glanced furtively around tossing his dark head like a wild horse. He seemed to be barely of age and was probably reckless enough to actually shoot.

John huffed. He frowned his brows in concentration and tried to ignore his beating heart. He decided on another approach. If he acted convincingly enough, the boy might back of. He was after all almost a child, still used to being ordered around by his father and older brothers.

-Oh, Great heavens! Someone, tell him that I am a doctor. I didn´t do it to hurt the girl. I cut her, but I did the bloody surgery to save her. The girl is alive, damn it! John cursed voice tight.

There was low buzzing among the villagers. Then an old woman, that was hunched and wrinkled enough to be at least a hundred years old, cleared out a path for herself through the crowd by waving her wooden staff. When she reached John and the young man she gave an exhausted sigh. She was talking slower than the boy and John could understand most of what she was saying even with his limited Afghan skills.

-Elham, my boy. You fool! What are you doing? This man may be with the white soldiers, but he has not hurt anyone. No! This man worked without rest to save your sister and two others after those you call friends made your sister, Sadia, to get hurt in the first place. This man is a good man. This man is a doctor. Is this how you show your gratefulness, Elham? Is this how your mother brought you up? The old woman scolded the boy.

From how she talked to him, John realized that he had to her grandson, who was rumored to have left the village to join the Taliban guerillas residing on the nearby mountains.

The boy probably didn´t have high opinion on anyone Western and hearing a story about a white man who pulled out a knife in front of his dying little sister and cut her with it, had sent him to rage. Probably the shocked villagers had forgotten to mention that the girl had already been gravely injured in an accident ( The Talibans had tried to smuggle explosives in villagers food carriages). And that he had operated on her purely to save the poor girl´s life. Quite ironically, the difficult operation had been successful. Out of his good will, John had used his two weeks holiday in the village to ensure that she and two other´s who had been injured in the same accident would recuperate well.

The fiery young man listened quietly his grandmother. He hesitated and pulled the riffle up to put it away. Then John saw a flash of light from the edge of the village, where the terrain turned to wild and low and shaggy looking bushes began to defíne the landscape. They heard a loud bang. Next the young man fell forward towards him, a gaping hole in the back of his skull. Villagers began to scream and fled in different directions like a scattered flock of geese. Before John could react in any way there was another gunshot. This time he was the one to hit the ground.

-...Watson! Captain Watson! He heard someone calling his name like through thick mist.

He batted his heavy eyelids and tried to focus his eyes. It was Bill Murray with his red hair, blue eyes and freckled face. The boy was still wet behind ears. He had worked as his assistant doctor for the last couple of months and had even volunteered to join him in the village. The boy idolized him. Usually, young Murray was almost annoyingly enthusiastic, but now his laughing eyes were filled with horror and worry. John almost felt sorry for the boy.

-H-How bad is it, Billy? He asked with a shattering voice. Murray swallowed a sniffle. He tried to look brave, but couldn´t get the words out of his mouth. God knows how many times, John had told him, that a doctor needed to stay calm no matter, how bad the injury looked, or the patient would panic. Oh god. He should have told him not to bother even try if the patient was a doctor too.

He was wrenched in his own blood. From the unhealthy coldness that had taken over him, he knew that it wouldn´t take too long for him to go to shock from the blood loss. Even if he could assume that someone had send the word to the troops and they were coming, at this rate it would be too late. There weren´t any other medical personnel here except him and Murray. And Murray was young, inexperienced and clearly terrified.

-M-Murray, John whispered with hoarse voice. -I´m dying from the blood loss. You have to do something to it before it´s too late.

The boy just shook his head miserably, but John took his hand to his own bloody fingers and looked to his eyes and nodded encouragingly.

-It´s big caliber. The shot went through your right shoulder. We don´t have the equipment for that. I can´t do that, John. I´m sorry, the boy cried.

John wanted to hit him hard.

-B-burn it, if you have to. It will buy us time.

Murray paled.

-I-I can´t. You haven´t seen it. If I burn the wound, there is no way you would recover without any lasting damage. You could lose the function of your right hand, captain! And the risk for infection is even greater.

-DAMN IT! John yelled in pain and frustration. -You are a doctor, Murray. My assistant doctor, young and recently graduated, but you should know what is most important. Am I not dead, if you don´t do it? Tell me truthfully!

Murray cast his eyes down.

-You are, he mumbled and John could see tears falling from his eyes as he admitted it.

-Then... Get on working with it, John panted.

After that he might have lost his consciousness for a while. Next thing he remembered was that Murray had some raging hot steel rods next to him. They glowed in red. The lad still looked unsure of what to do.

-You can... do it, Bill.

-But what if...

-It... doesn´t matter. I know you will do your best. I-if I don´t make it, ...it´s my time to go.

 _But I want to live_ , John thought to himself. Oh god, how much he wanted to live. He had never before felt it as strongly as now, when he really facing the death.

After that thought John lost his consciousness again.

Soon, excruciating pain from beaming steel made him scream even though he wasn´t coherent enough anymore to know, what was going on and why. In fever and pain, he thought, that the Talibans had gotten him and were torturing him. When the unconsciousness came to him, it was a blessing.

/

When he finally woke up, John was told that the military helicopter had picked him up and delivered him to the nearest field hospital, where doctors had operated on him for the whole night and miraculously ended up saving his life. Then he had been moved to a bigger hospital (again by chopper) in Kabul, where he now woke up. His wound had become infected and he had been in life threatening condition. Doctors had pumped him full of all kinds of medication. He was later told that his heart rate had fallen dangerously couple of times, but in the end he had pulled through it.

As soon as his over all condition would allow it, they planned to move him to UK into another hospital where he could begin his long rehabilitation. It was going to be difficult and it would take time, he was told. And even if he worked hard and got back most of the functions in his right arm, it would never be as precise as before. He would never be able to return to his old job in RAMC as a trauma surgeon.

His army colleagues had visited him at the hospital, when they had days of. There was even a slightly awkward but heart warming meeting with young Murray. The lad had ended up crying. He had told John that the doctor that had replaced him in RAMC was infuriatingly full of himself and patients didn´t like him much. According to him they kept asking for the "Three Continents Watson", wanting to hear of his latest adventures with women. John had comforted the lad and told him that he would get used to the new doctor in no time and so would the patients. The days would get so busy that no-one would have time to miss him. Murray had assured that it would not be the case, at least not with him. John sensed his sincerity and was touched by his words. He knew well, that in the war he had become some kind of a father figure or older brother to the boy. Murray had become very dear to him too.

John would always remember that evening In the Afghan setting sun painted the white walls of his simple room in red and orange. They had sworn to see each other during the longer holidays even after John´s return to UK.

/

During the next weeks John was steadily getting better. Murray visited him as often as possible. John had to actually remind the boy to get some rest at times. Then one time, when he was waiting for a visit, the boy didn´t arrive. Instead of him a gloomy looking major sat heavily on the stool next to his bed.

-Your assistant doctor, Bill Murray, has passed away today, John. I asked to be the one to tell you. We all thought that you should be told personally. As I am your oldest friend, I took the responsibility, the stolid man stated in heavy voice.

Major Sholto looked John into eyes. John knew that the man found it very uncomfortable. When they had become friends, they had agreed that, when there were just the two of them Sholto didn´t need to do that. John wouldn´t mind. But now major Sholto looked at him great sorrow visible in his eyes and there was nothing John could say to him. The major patted his shoulder gently.

-How did it happen? John managed to whisper finally.

/

Next night, he didn´t see nightmares of getting shot. No, this time he wasn´t in the village, but on the road once again.

 _They were moving to another base in military jeeps. Men had their guns ready to scare the possible attackers off and to be ready if something happened. They knew the rule of constant vigilance, but nothing had happened for a long while and warm afternoon made them drowsy and lazy._

 _It was hot as hell. The sun burned John´s eyes, like it almost always did. Stubborn flies buzzed around. An old man was herding his goats on the roadside, singing with a voice that reminded that of a goat too. There wasn´t a single cloud on the blue sky._

 _The calm afternoon was cut only by a small cracking sound as the first jeep drove over something. Immediately afterwards an incredibly loud explosion ripped the ear drums. The shock wave hit the nearest jeeps swaying them of from the road. The first car was burning._

 _Murray, who sat next to him, was hastily pulling off his safety belt with one hand and reaching for the first aid kid with the other hand. He was determined to go for the burning jeep and do his job in trying to save the passengers or what was left of them._

 _John tried to grab a hold of his sleeve. He knew, how easily young men forgot to look after their own safety. His hand however grabbed only air and Murray was already out of the car. He hurried after him._

 _"Look first for anything that could indicate danger, Murray. There might be more explosives or there might be sharp shooters hiding nearby", he advised just like he normally would have in such a situation, but the boy barely looked around. Murray heard one of the passengers scream in pain from the burning car and rushed over to help him. John tried to yell after him, but it the young man didn´t even hear him._

 _Maybe Murray actually triggered another bomb that the first explosion hadn´t outdone. Or maybe it was just the burning jeep that exploded, but the other soldiers had only time to shout their warnings before the second explosion._

 _After they were sure, that it was safe to go there, the looked for the young doctor. They found him next to the car. The bottom half of his body was gone and the expression on his face was that of surprise._

John woke up trembling and crying. His body was covered in cold sweat. His heart rate had been so fast that the machines had informed a nurse. The image of Murray´s mutilated body was so vivid that he kept caging. John cursed his profession, which ensured that he had enough information to imagine it accurately.

After he had calmed down a little, the nurse brought him some relaxants. On the next day they were supposed to move him to UK for rehabilitation.


	15. Chapter 15

-In your papers it says that your father made a suicide, when you were thirteen?

John´s psychotherapist prompted him after a long silence that had followed her earlier question. She had asked, if he himself had any theories, that could explain his psychosomatic limb. As often seemed to be the case, she clearly had formed her own hypothesis before asking.

-Yes. That is right, John answered after coming to a conclusion that ignoring the woman would be just mean, childish and shortsighted. The woman was just doing her job, after all, and he himself was there because, truthfully, he didn´t fancy to stay as an invalid for the rest of his life.

-He was run over by a train, have I understood right?

-Yes. That was the case. He jumped in front of it. There was nothing that could be done, John confirmed with monotone voice.

The woman´s cherry red lips twitched. She corrected her round shaped eyeglasses and scribbled something to her notebook. John glanced it briefly and read upside down:" _Numbed feelings. Tells of untreated trauma..."_

He sighed and the woman mimicked him.

-I have a feeling that you are reluctant to talk about that...

She was right. He was reluctant. But John assumed that if he admitted that, it would just confirm her hypothesis about his recent problems rooting from that childhood tragedy.

-It´s not that. It´s just... Well, this is all written in my papers too, but I already went through those things when I enlisted. If I was to be assigned to disaster zone they wanted to make sure that I was mentally stable. No-one wants to deal with a doctor who is in hysterics in crisis situations. Suicide of a parent was like a red flag to them. They allowed me to enlist only on a condition that I´d meet a professional and he would recommend me. I met a psychotherapist a couple of times and got the healthy papers.

-I´m aware of that, she huffed frustratedly. Then she remembered, that she was the professional and collected herself and smiled to John sickeningly understandingly.

-Please. I know it is uncomfortable, but to help you we must know from where your problem roots. I know you want to walk well again, doctor Watson. That is the reason why you need to face your past.

John huffed too. He looked at his hands and nodded then slowly.

-What do you want to know then?

-How did it happen?

John frowned and tried to actually recall that warm spring day so many years ago.

-My father... I didn´t live with him then. I had moved to my relatives in countryside, in Wales, almost half an year earlier. It was supposed to be a temporary solution. Just until he got his life back to together. My father was a drunkard, as you may know. He was trying to become clean. That time, I believe he truly was trying. He was visiting a clinic regularly and was getting better according to the doctors there. But... Well, I think, my father didn´t really care much for this world ever since my mother died. He was hanging in there. Drinking so much was probably his way of slowly killing himself. He couldn´t really shoot himself or anything, when me and Harry were still dependent of him, but when we were gone and safe, feed and taken care of by other people, he was... well, free to do, what he had wanted to do for a long time.

There was a long silence.

-How did you get to know about your father´s death?

-I was supposed to meet him on the next weekend. That day was Wednesday. It´s a funny coincidence actually... I tried to reach him right after he had been hit by the train. I was going to confirm something about the times, but I couldn´t contact him. At that time, I thought that he might have gone back to drinking again. I thought that he didn´t want to answer to my call so that I wouldn´t hear it from his voice. I was quite pissed, actually. But as it later was revealed, he was already dead at that time. I got a call from the clinic later on that day. One of the doctors called me after hearing about my father.

-How did that feel to you? To know that your father had killed himself?

-I don´t know... What is it supposed to feel like? He killed himself. That was selfish of him. Maybe I was angry and sad, but well, I don´t think I was really all that surprised. That´s just how he always was. Even though he said that he would meet us on the next weekend, well... I never really trusted him. I thought that something would definitely come up. He was a weak, fragile man. I couldn´t have saved him. I was just a boy at that time, and it wasn´t my part to take care of him. If I think about it like that, I feel that I can understand him a bit and forgive him.

-How was your father when they found him? She asked.

John rose his head and looked her to eyes.

-There wasn´t much off him left. Most of him... were mashed all around, or that´s what I´ve been told. It wasn´t like his leg was severed or anything, if that is what you are after with these questions.

John could see the frustration grow in the therapist.

But no, John was quite sure that his father´s death was not what triggered his leg problem.

-Then. What are you going to do when you are released home from here? Do you have something in mind? The therapist decided to change topic.

John shrugged his shoulders.

He had called Harry and told her about his situation, but he suspected that she might have already forgotten it all. Truthfully, he didn´t really even want to see his sister after hearing that she had broken up with her wife Clara. He had a place in mind, however. At least in some way.

-London. I plan to live in London.

The therapist´s eyebrows rose in question.

-London? Living there is very expensive nowadays, or that´s what I´ve heard. With your pension only, it will be difficult to find an apartment. Do you have any special reason to stay there?

-Well... Nothing like that. It´s just that I lived there as a child. At that time, I had to leave and I swore that I would come back one day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi, you all! It´s been a long time...**

 **This chapter is my version of their first meeting in canon. It´s probably not exactly the same, though. And I swear, this will be only chapter in which I rely this much on the original. Original is the inspiration and I actually try to get the characters right, but I like to create my own plot lines. (By the way, it would be nice to hear, how much in character you think my John, Mycroft and Sherlock are now that they are adult?)**

 **So after all this rambling... here we go! :D**

 **-EveryJohn**

/

"Nothing ever happens to me", he had told today to his therapist, Ella Thompson, when she had suggested to him blog writing. She had claimed, that it would do him good. Adjust him better to civilian life. She was actually a good therapist. John liked her much better than his earlier one. He felt bad for shooting down her suggestion, but sadly that was the truth. He had now lived in London for almost two months and never in his life had he felt more useless.

He gritted his teeth and limped forward with the same gloomy determination, that had kept him going until now. It was spring and the central park was still relatively empty because of the cold weather. Stupid seagulls were doing skilled dives after cast away chips. To John their screams sounded mocking, so clumsy and slow was his own moving. There wasn´t even anything wrong with his leg, only with his head. Unfortunately the pain was all real.

-John! John Watson.

He heard someone calling his name and was tempted to just keep going, but when the caller stood up from the bench and stepped after him repeating his name, he resigned and turned around.

It was Mike Stamford from his year course. He looked healthy, plump and happy. He practically beamed at him and was clearly delighted to see him. John did his best to act at least civil and not to take his own bitterness out from he innocent passerby who just happened to be his old friend.

They ended up drinking instant coffee on a bench while catching up. Somewhere along the way John had blurted out that he couldn´t afford to stay in London with his army pension. He had come to that conclusion after spending only two months in his god awful, rundown apartment, which was tiny enough to be someone´s toilet. Walking with the cane took so much effort and time, that beside the therapy sessions, he hardly left the apartment. Spending all day in that kind of place was far from beneficial to his mental health.

But Mike Stamford just laughed it off good naturedly and told that the John Watson he knew couldn´t bear to live anywhere else. After witnessing that John was serious he, however, suggested getting help from his sister Harry, which John didn´t consider for a moment. Then Mike suggested flat share.

-Who would want to share a flat with me, he had scoffed full of self pity, but surprisingly Mike only laughed at his words.

-You are the second person today to tell me that, he explained somewhat mischievously.

-Who is the first? John just had to ask.

/

-Afghanistan or Iraq?

John batted his eyelids.

-Afghanistan or Iraq? Well, which one it is? The long, curly haired man in front of him pressed. He had some ridiculously sharp cheekbones, John noted.

John frowned.

-Afghanistan. But how did you...?"

Before the man could answer, the lab door was opened and a mousy looking woman walked in with a cup of steaming coffee. She was stammering and blushing so much that her crush on mr. Cheek Bones became painfully obvious. She handed him the coffee, but the man didn´t seem to notice her expectations at all. Either that or he behaved cruelly on purpose. (John didn´t know, which would be worse.)

The woman rushed out from the the research lab and the man didn´t seem bothered at all by that. If that was, how he used to deal with undesired interest of opposite sex... Well, he probably should regularly check his coffee for poison, John wondered.

The man didn´t seem concerned. He simply continued the bizarre interrogation of John.

-How do you feel about violin?

John was even more confused now.

-I´m sorry... What?

The man explained that he played violin while thinking and could sometimes go on for days. Now, John began to have this eerie feeling of familiarity.

-..flatmates should know the worst of each other.

John was pulled back to the reality and it took a while for him to recognise that the man had just talked about flat mates. He turned to Mike feeling slightly offended that the friend had so eagerly discussed about his situation with the other man (and without mentioning it to him). But Mike denied his accusation and shrugged his shoulders still having that mischievous twinkle in his gentle eyes.

-Then, who talked anything about flatmates? He asked confused.

-I did, the man stated while pulling on his long coat and without even turning to face him.

-I told Mike on this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is... unannounced with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Not a difficult leap.

John´s heart pounded louder. There really was something about this man. He couldn´t put a finger on it, but the way his light grey eyes shined in excitement... The way he carelessly but elegantly wrapped the dark blue scarf around his neck. The way he talked. It was like an itch one couldn´t scratch. Absurd sense of déjà vu.

To hide his confusion and also because he really wanted to know, he asked, how the man knew about Afghanistan, but instead of answering he told John about a nice little place in central London, which he had and which they could afford together. He even announced that they would be meeting there at seven o´clock tomorrow. Then he apologized for having to rush already (to get his riding crop from mortuary!?). (And no, he didn´t look or sound even a bit apologetic...)

The man was half way to the door before John managed to open his mouth.

-Is that it? He stopped the man.

The man turned around slowly.

-Is that what? He asked, finally looking to his eyes.

It was quite unbelievable that John had to explain that. They had just met and now they were renting a flat together. And... He didn´t even know the man´s name or the bloody address of the place.

The man´s eyes widened as if John had just challenged him in some way.

-I know that you´re army doctor and that you´ve been demobilized home from Afghanistan and you have a brother who is worried about you. You don´t go to him though. Probably because he is an alcoholic or more likely because he has recently walked out from his wife. That and your therapist thinks that your limp is psychosomatic...

He took a long estimating look on his leg.

-I think, quite correctly, I´m afraid, he then bluntly pointed out.

John didn´t know what to say, which the man noticed. His lips twitched to a triumphant smirk. He strode to the door and John thought that he was already gone, but then he returned to the doorway.

-The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 Baker Street! The man announced and winked playfully, after which he closed the door. (The smug bastard!)


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi!**

 **This took a while, but here we go... Some Mycroft for us all :)**

 **-everyJohn**

Mycroft Holmes was checking his reflection from a huge gold hedged mirror. He had to admit that the expensive tailor made suit fit him perfectly. The dark grey cloth matched well with the light blue tie giving out just the right impression of calculated power. However, if someone had watched him closely they might have seen his eyes stop for a second around his stomach and his aristocratic eyebrows to twitch in disapproval. One of the buttons was barely notably stretched, which it certainly had not been when he had fitted the suit on two weeks ago. (His brother would be sure to mention this...)

-Sir?

Mycroft turned slowly and gracefully to face his secretary and rose his eyebrow in question.

-I´ve been informed, that your brother has found a new flatmate, sir.

-So soon?

Amused surprise danced briefly on Mycroft´s face.

-I have to admit, that he has been especially fast this time. It never lasts long, unfortunately.

He shook his head sadly and gave a resigned smile.

-I´d like to offer my condolences to the unfortunate soul. I assume, that you did the usual back ground check on the poor man?

His secretary nodded. She opened and read out a short report of the matter.

-He is a retired army doctor called John Watson, sir. Three months ago, he was shot into shoulder in Afghanistan. He limbs heavily, which seems to be at least partly psychosomatic. He also meets regularly with a psychotherapist called Ella Thompson but doesn´t have many other acquaintances in London at the moment. It is very likely, that he suffers from at least mild case of PTSD, sir.

Now Mycroft was getting slightly curious.

-Army doctor with PTSD? Would you enlighten me, how my brother ended up meeting him?

-Apparently they have a mutual acquaintance, sir. I´ve been told that Dr. Stamford from St. Bart´s introduced them to each other.

-Hmm... All luck has truly forsaken this doctor, Mycroft mumbled absentmindedly.

Shaking his head he returned back to his reflection to check everything over once more. The meeting with the prime minister and an Indian maharaja would start soon, and it was extremely important. The future of the British metal industry relied heavily on the outcome of it.

His secretary interrupted him once again, which was rude of her and certainly not characteristic to her either.

-According to the cameras, your brother just left Baker Street, sir. He seems to be heading to a crime scene.

-Detective inspector Lestrade must have asked his help with the serial suicides. There is nothing new about it. Though, I wonder, what takes them so long to solve this.

-But your brother took his new flatmate with him, sir.

Mycroft had a sudden coughing fit. He turned sharply on his heels and looked intently to his secretary´s face. His eyes widened when he realized that she was telling the truth. When Mycroft talked, his voice was strict and commanding, but the trusted secretary could see from the faint blush on his cheeks that he was near to most excited she had ever seen him.

-Send a word to prime minister. Tell him that something urgent has come up and we must postpone our meeting for another day. Contact my best investigation team and tell them to come up with as much information of this Dr. Watson as they can.

-Yes, sir.

-And... Helene. You will come with me. We will meet this army doctor and have him interviewed.

Helene hid a smile and didn´t mention, that her boss could have as well used a word "interrogated".

/

Later at that evening Helene saw her boss walk around his office room deep in thoughts.

-What did you think about him, Helene?

Helene straightened her back. Mister Holmes rarely asked her opinion.

-He is a gentleman. Despite being crippled he was very confident, she worded carefully.

Mycroft nodded.

-Yes, he is confident. I pushed some of his weak spots, but he didn´t sway much. Considering that he could not prepare in any way, he did better than many of my own agents. It´s hard to imagine that a man like him suffers from PTSD. Still, he has been through a lot.

Mycroft wrinkled his eyebrows.

-My little brother couldn´t stand the idea of taking a trained agent with him to crime scenes, but this man... His stance. He was ready to fight back at any moment if I gave a reason for that. He´s a doctor and I saw how he looked at all my vulnerable spots calculating speed and force he would need to take me down if needed. Still he never lost his composure or acted threateningly. He has good instincts. He probably knew that I had my men around. Without his problem with walking, I would have enlisted him myself.

-He didn´t seem interested in your offer, Helene mentioned.

Mycroft´s lips twitched in displeasure.

-The man lived in a rat hole, but isn´t tempted by money, he spit.

-Sherlock´s enemies would have hard time buying his loyalty, too, Helene reminded.

-Yes. But that isn´t what bothers me. I find it really concerning that still after this meeting I don´t know what really moves him. He is somewhat enchanted to danger. He has weaknesses like any other man, but they don´t go as deep as I thought.

-You find him hard to control. Maybe, that is what your little brother finds so fascinating of him.

Helene saw that Mycroft didn´t like her answer. The man continued the walk through the room for a long time after that but remained silent.


	18. Chapter 18

When John Watson woke up, he kept his eyes shut for a long while recalling yesterday. He had been stalked and kidnapped, publicly humiliated and taken part in serial murder investigation (His therapist probably hadn´t meant that, when she suggested him to try to find new content to his life). What else? He had been wrongly accused as gay, he had chased after murderer through London streets with his new flatmate and he had been cured from his psychosomatic limb. Oh, and there had been a drug bust in their apartment. He had written the first update to his blog. And well... He had shot a serial killer. And saved his flatmate. And he didn´t regret it at all.

John waited a moment for anything else to pop in his mind. When he assumed that the list was complete, he stood up and began to lazily lumber down the stairs towards the kitchen of his new place. The stove was pleasantly modern and clean. Well, he needed it mostly for heating the water for tea. Sherlock hadn´t seemed much into domestics either. Yesterday they had eaten out for free. Sherlock had apparently helped the owners of every good restaurant nearby. Italian for lunch and Chinese for dinner... Without exercise of chasing after murderers through the city, he could get fat in no time. John chuckled to himself, scratched his head and reached for teabags on the second shelf where he remembered putting them yesterday. He stiffened and stared the small box in his hand. If he was´t wrong, and he didn´t think he was... (He was a doctor and it was kind of a part of the job to be able to label human body parts.) ...it was a cut and dried human ear.

-Don´t touch it, John. It is important.

-It is a human ear...

-Yes. I would know, as I was the one to put it there.

-Why?!

-Experiment.

John was speechless. After short thinking he decided that his brain didn´t seem to work properly this early in the morning without a cup of tea.

-Okay... Do you happen to have any tea, then?

-There was a full box yesterday.

-Yes Sherlock, I know that. Where is it now?

-I threw the tea away, when I put the ear in it.

-Then...

-Tesco is only couple of minutes from here. Buy some milk, too.

-Sherlock, you really threw out my tea to put a dried human ear in instead? And now you expect me to shop for you?

-I hope that you are trying to be rhetorical, as otherwise I really worry for your memory with this much repeat, John.

John scratched his head.

-Is that all?

-Actually, now that you asked! I suddenly feel like drinking tea. After you are done with Tesco make some for me too.

John took a long calming breath.

-With pleasure. And is there anything else I could do for you, Sherlock? he asked sarcastically from the door.

-Don´t forget the milk.

John slammed the door shut. That was oddly satisfying, even though, he was immediately ashamed how childish it was. He could imagine their charming landlady Mrs Hudson mentioning it on their next meeting. She would probably complain something about grown men behaving like little children. All that while feeding him some of her wonderful biscuits.

/

The first time John thought about the possibility of Sherlock being Redbeard had been yesterday when they were sitting in a taxi on their way to a crime scene. Sherlock had begun to explain his deductions from the earlier day. John had found his keen observations kind of creepy but impressive. Before he even noticed, he had worded his amazement. Suddenly, instead of the intimidating adult, in front of him had been a small boy eyes shining from the honest compliments. At that moment, John had felt that he knew that boy.

To John the possibility of there being more than one genius capable of that level of thinking seemed dim. They had met in London again. The age matched. Even the looks were somewhat similar, though Sherlock was more lanky than Redbeard had been. The annoying personality was pretty much the same. What confused John, though, was that Sherlock hadn´t show any sign of recognizing him. Even as a child the man had been many times more observant than him. It was unbelievable for Sherlock not to figure out everything immediately if he was Redbeard. On the other hand, if Sherlock had already known who John was, why would he hide it? This hole in the logic made John hesitate. At first, he thought hard what to do with his discovery, but when he finally stepped over the threshold of Tesco he decided to do what he usually did when something seemed too complicated: Let it be. John trusted that one day the answer would present itself in one way or another.


	19. Chapter 19

**Here we go again. I´m not completely sure if I´m satisfied with this, but I still wanted to post this now. There is a time gap in the story once again (This is the last one, I swear!) Please review as much as possible! I love all of you comments.**

 **-everyJohn**

 _"I will burn... THE HEART OUT OF YOU!"_

 _He was dreaming. Somewhere in his mind he knew that this wasn´t happening right now. Not that it wasn´t real._

 _Chlorine smell. The madman´s voice in his ear. Red unsteady laser dot on his chest. Real, genuine fear in Sherlock´s eyes for the first time._

 _Oh yes, they had nearly died._

 _The funny thing was that even though the madman had wrapped him into explosives and spoken of fire, they had been surrounded by still water. Nothing had burned. Therefore, when the dark water in the pool burst into high flames and a wave of heat hit his face, he knew for sure that he was dreaming. Apparently, in his dream the pool was filled with gasoline, not water._

 _The madman laughed his head off. Then he looked straight to him and winked his black eye._

 _"Johnny boy", he said in singsong voice, "Seems like, we get to see some nice fireworks before passing away!"_

 _It was getting hard to breathe and horrible heat made him sweat like a pig. Only sound in silence beside the cracking and hissing of fire was the madman´s dry barking laugh._

 _"People have died..." ,he complained helplessly. It came out as a weak pained sniffle. He didn´t even know to whom he had directed the words._

 _The madman´s face twisted into ugly mess._

 _"THAT`S WHAT PEOPLE DO!" he screamed in anger._

John shuddered. Someone was shaking him. Shouting at him. Between sleep and wake, he still wasn´t sure which one was real. _"That´s what people do"._ Yes, that´s what people around him did.

Everyone.

Dying.

Only Sherlock came back.

/

It had been four years since he moved to Baker Street for the first time. The first two years that he had spent with the only consulting detective in the world, had passed fast. Now when he recalled those days, they were filled with chasing after criminals, detective´s ridiculous experiments, messes he made in their apartment when he became bored and their stupid quarrels. All in all, everything that happened then seemed much happier and colorful than anything that happened before or after that time.

Those colorful days were abruptly cut, when Sherlock jumped from the roof top the St. Bart´s hospital. They had talked in phone only seconds before and he had pleaded desperately Sherlock not to do it. Suddenly, the great Sherlock Holmes was just a mess of broken bones and a pool of blood on the ground. It was a suicide. That meant that Sherlock had killed himself on purpose. For a long time, John refused to believe it.

For one time, only once, he had come near to following his friend to death. He had already held a loaded gun against his temple. Steel had felt cold to his bare skin. All he could think was that he had to meet Sherlock to ask him why. He had begged him not to do it. Even if the detective had turned out to be a fake, John would still have stayed by his side. Sherlock should have known that. He had been one of the most intelligent people on this planet, after all. Was John´s unyielding friendship not good enough reason to try living?

John didn´t pull the trigger at that time. He could not do that to the people who still cared for him. Mrs. Hudson, their elderly landlady, had already been through enough. Detective inspector Greg Lestrade still blamed himself for Sherlock´s death. He often called him for drinks and tried to help him in every possible way. Kind and friendly Molly Hooper who had been deeply (though one-sidedly) in love with Sherlock was also badly shaken. She could barely look at him when they once happened to meet on the street.

John gritted his teeth. He put the gun down and picked up his mobile phone. It felt at least as heavy in his hand as the gun had been. He called his previous therapist Ella Thombson and re-scheduled meetings with her. At that time, he didn´t have real hope of anything getting easier ever again no matter what he did, but that was the least he could do for the people around him. He should at least try.

/

It actually did get better. It became bearable. There were more moments, when he felt like staying alive was the right decision, after all.

He even fell in love. It wasn´t passionate and carefree love of his younger days, but she was very much like him in that aspect. They both had seen enough life to appreciate the brief moments of happiness that both spiritual and bodily closeness to another human being brought. They both knew, how fleeting those moments were.

John was never completely happy. Sometimes when he looked at himself in the mirror he was shocked by the change. Sad grey tone had taken over the whole man. He had known that he felt different, but for it show that clearly was depressing. Gone was the boyish mischievous glint from his eyes and in their place sadness, bitterness and fear of losing.

/

Two years later, on the day when he had finally made plans to propose her, Sherlock had decided to rise from his grave. The detective had popped up in the middle of a romantic dinner in a nice restaurant. He had a painted mustache and he was talking in ridiculous accent. He was dressed as a waiter and he probably found it fun to fool him. John hadn´t shared that sense of humor and he had hit the man. Hard.

Sherlock never needed to do much. In matter of seconds he had brought chaos back to his life once again.

No-one, not even his bride Mary truly understood, why John was so furious to Sherlock and refused all his attempts to make up. John had asked for a miracle and like a miracle Sherlock had been returned to him. So why did he complain? He had hard time putting it to words even for himself. He was hurt, John admitted. He had been thoroughly fooled by Sherlock and Mycroft. Even Molly had been in it. Of course there had been a reason for it, but, nevertheless, he felt left out. Still his wounded pride wasn´t the biggest reason.

The truth was, that he, John Watson, was afraid.

He had been sure that he had lost Sherlock forever. Of all the people he had lost, not even one had ever come back. He had been forced to accept that the death was irreversible and in front of it everything was useless. Quilt, desperation, pleading, threats and promises. Heaven knows, he had tried it all and none of that mattered. Miracles didn´t happen. Surprisingly that unrelenting thought had eventually become almost comforting. It had pushed him forward when he had faltered and it had kept him sane. To know that he had been fooled like that... What if he took the reckless genius back into his life and what if the man died again?

Even then, he had eventually forgiven Sherlock and taken him back. He couldn´t really help it.

They continued pretending that everything was like it had once been, but both knew that things had changed. First of all, there was Mary, who fortunately seemed to like Sherlock. John had made sure to Sherlock, that he would not give her up, no matter what. He could not afford to build his life again so solely on the friendship with Sherlock. The detective danced with death regularly. One day, without a doubt, he would miss a step. Mary was the stable grounding that John desperately needed in his life to stay sane.

John had married Mary and Sherlock had been his best man. That day he had been closer to happiness than ever after Sherlock´s fall. She was pregnant with his child. He was going to be a father at this age and he didn´t know how to react. But he had been very happy.

Then everything had once again come crashing down.

They had been investigating a blackmail case when Sherlock got shot to stomach and almost died on his arms. John had been completely shaken. Mary had been with him in the hospital and it had helped a little at first. Then Sherlock had escaped from the hospital and lured him and his wife to an abandoned building. The detective´s trap had worked and John was forced to face the fact that his own pregnant wife was the one who had almost killed his best friend. Apparently she had done that for him.

John had immediately moved back to Baker Street. On the first night there, he had sat on his old bed staring at the ceiling with blank eyes. John didn´t know anymore if he was supposed to cry or laugh bitterly in this absurd situation. In his hand he held an USB-stick which was supposed to contain all the answers to the hundreds of questions that were now rushing through his head. Mary had given it to him. She had claimed that it contained everything about her past. She looked sad when she added that after knowing all about her, he would not love her anymore.

Sherlock thought, that he should forgive Mary. She was pregnant with his child after all. No matter what the mother had done, the child was innocent. Mary wished for that too. Only he didn´t know, what he wished for.

John had not been able to get a wink of sleep at that night. Mrs. Hudson had been full of questions, but fortunately the old woman read his mood well and left him alone, only bringing tea and biscuits at the door with a note to eat them and get some sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hi, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. I had this scene in my mind almost from the beginning (though it took quite a long route to get there...) This is also supposed to shed some light on, what really happened to John in the factory after Sherlock´s rescue.**

 **Do you like it? Or not? What do you think about it? I´d really like to know.**

 **-everyJohn**

Sherlock was forced stay in hospital for three weeks. John visited him every day, but if Sherlock tried to ask something about Mary, he immediately changed the topic and when that didn´t work he told him straight that he didn´t want to even hear his wife´s name at the moment and if Sherlock kept insisting, he wouldn´t visit him anymore. Then the detective would be left alone and bored in his hospital room.

After his return to home Sherlock began to work on cases like normally. John helped him occasionally. They still didn´t talk about Mary.

One evening, when they sat on their respective chairs in the living room, both concentrating on their own silent entertainments (John´s was a best seller novel, Sherlock´s was a charred human arm), John rose his eyes from the book he was reading and turned to talk to Sherlock.

-Greg called and said that he is coming later today. He has something to discuss with you.

-Greg? Who is that?

John felt a small sting of irritation.

-You must have known him for almost a decade now. How come you still don´t remember Lestrade´s first name, Sherlock?

-So you meant Lestrade. He is going to ask my help in solving the recent arsonist cases, obviously. Out of their wits already...

Sherlock clicked his tongue and continued viewing the arm through a magnifying glass.

-Don´t you think that not remembering his name is terribly rude of you, John muttered.

-You know very well that I delete useless information, John.

-Would you forget me too, if you happened to need some extra space on your hard drive? Is it that easy for you? John snapped and sprang to his feet. He claimed that he felt sleepy and retired early to his room.

John himself was surprised of how much this issue still bothered him. He had believed to have accepted that part of Sherlock ages ago. To this day, Sherlock had never suspected him to be the boy in the factory. Actually, the consulting detective had never even mentioned the incident, which had lead John to believe that he had deleted it from his memory all together. It probably wasn´t comparable in importance to the whole solar system which Sherlock had, apparently, also gotten rid of. It just hurt John a little that the encounter, which had been life changing for him was barely an useless piece of information for the other party. Because of that hurt, John had never mentioned the common childhood event to Sherlock. He convinced himself that the years that they shared as adults were much more significant than a mere day of their childhood. After Sherlock´s supposed death and the following resurrection those old things, however, seemed to bother him more than before.

/

John heard Greg to come in and talk with Sherlock. A little later they both left. John imagined Sherlock grabbing his favorite coat and scarf and heading to the night of the city of London. The door was held open for a couple of seconds longer than usually as if Sherlock was waiting for him to join in, but John didn´t feel like it tonight. Then Sherlock´s sharp steps in the staircase already receded and he was left alone.

He took a pill that would allow him to sleep better and went to bed. He was sure that without medicine, he wouldn´t get a wink of sleep, but taking it still felt like defeat and he tried survive with as small dose as possible. It didn´t help with the nightmares. More likely other way around. Nightmares were often part of his sleep, but the drug seemed to ensure that he would have them. He closed his eyes and waited for the drug to kick in and take him to oblivion.

/

A little later, John woke up in the middle of re-occurring nightmare of Moriarty and the pool. Someone kept yelling his name and slapping his cheeks.

/

-Sh... Sherlock...? It´s not fun. If this is some kind of experiment..., he began sluggishly but stopped abruptly when he noticed detective´s bewildered eyes.

-That lunatic set Baker Street number 221 on fire! I was supposed to chase after him through the night to find out that meanwhile you and our flat had burned to cinders.

-For God´s sake, Sherlock. Talk slower. I took a sleeping pill and it takes a while to recover from it.

-You don´t have that time now, John. This place is on fire. Grab your things and then we must run!

-You really mean, that...? Oh, shit, I hate pyromaniacs, John mumbled and tried to get up, but slipped and would have fallen if Sherlock had not held his arm in nick of time.

-Stop playing around, John.

John tried to get back to balance, but everything seemed to sway. There was thick smoke in the air. His ears were ringing. He tried to focus on Sherlock.

-What about Mrs. Hudson?

-I alarmed her already. She lives downstairs so it was easy for her to slip out. What was difficult, was getting up here. Now, enough of this meaningless blabbering. It´s nothing new that you are slow, John Watson. But all this while the fire has more time to spread!

-Oh...

John swayed again. He held instinctively his head as pain rushed through it. This wasn´t just because of the sleeping pill. For how long had he been here in fumes? He reached for the first aid bag which he always stored above his bed. He felt safer with it and he had an ominous feeling that they would need it.

-Should we use fire ladders? He asked Sherlock, who had gone to the door of his room and was looking worriedly down the stairs.

The detective glanced at him, but didn´t say anything.

John thought, that he knew what went through his mind. The fire ladders could be their only chance, but as unstable as he was, John could fall.

-Lets rush downstairs. We should still make it. If the exit there is blocked we just need to improvise, Sherlock ordered.

John nodded and staggered to the stairs. Sherlock followed after him and had to grab his shoulder a couple of times to keep him from falling.

-Do you have Mary´s memory stick with you? Sherlock confirmed.

-That is so like you. First thing you want to remove from a burning house has something to do with my lying wife´s dirty secrets. But yes, I have it with me, John mumbled batting his stinging eyes in the smoke that had filled the downstairs. Sherlock didn´t seem to listen him. He was checking the room and searching for an escape route.

-Okay John. We need to jump from the window, he informed grimly.

-Sherlock... I hope, that is a joke.

John felt that his insides were about turn upside down at any moment. He had absolutely no enthusiasm to practice any climbing or jumping around. The heat of the flames added to his budging panic. At moments surroundings blended with the memory of the abandoned factory on fire from his childhood.

-All the other routes have been blocked. It is as if someone has deliberately shut us in.

Sherlock began to break glass from the window while John waited leaning to the wall. Then Sherlock yelled to him something. He could hardly muster the strength to listen what he meant.

-Take Victor and then we will do it!

John shook his head. He was sure that he had heard wrong.

-Take Victor, John! Victor, the skull, you idiot! Sherlock yelled frustrated.

The skull. The creepy thing that Sherlock had once introduced to him as "a friend of his". It was just like Sherlock for that to be the second thing to save from a burning building.

-Does he name his every god damn friend as Victor, John mumbled to himself as he reached to take the skull from the dresser.

It was only when he turned back that he noticed his friend´s frozen stare.

-What? What are you looking at, Sherlock? It´s getting really awkward about now.

-What did you just say? Sherlock asked him slowly.

It took a while for John to remember and Sherlock put in before he could repeat his words.

-How did you know that I named him? How did you know that I named Victor?

John was feeling sluggish. His heart beat faster and faster in his ears. The sudden interrogation from his friend felt too much right now.

-Really, Sherlock... The house is burning and we are supposed to jump from the window. Is this the right time for this?

-But how could you know? Sherlock asked with unnaturally high voice. He held John´s shoulders so hard that it hurt. Sherlock´s eyes looked wild in the light of the flames.

John had enough.

-Oh bloody devil, Sherlock! I know you don´t remember it, but I was kidnapped with you when we were children. Does Mercury, Raymond or Bella ring a bell? What about Impressions Technology? You were an annoying brat even then. In the middle of it all you decided to name me as Victor and called yourself Redbeard. And I really don´t know how common occurrence getting kidnapped was to you at that time. If you want to know why I never said anything to you, that was because if you didn´t remember yourself, I didn´t see the point! John spit out.

Sherlock listened silently. The fire cracked and something seemed to fall from the ceiling and crash into floor.

-I am so going to kill Mycroft, Sherlock finally hissed with quiet, poisonous voice and let go of his shoulders.

-You know, I´m all for it. I´m sure he deserves it for various reasons, John muttered, but he had to stop because of a coughing fit that didn´t seem to stop. This wasn´t good at all.

-And... Sherlock, we need to stop this discussion as I´m going to faint soon. B-bring me outside, to the fresh air, as soon as possible. If I stop breathing... well you know CPR, d-don´t you? When m-medics get here... extra oxygen... c-carbonm... monoxide p-poisoning... most likely...

His legs gave in and the world turned around. Last thing he saw was a close in to Sherlock´s nostrils and wide horrified eyes when the man leaned over him and called his name.

/

 _Past and present blended together. He was again in the abandoned factory of Impressions technology. Redbeard was gone and he was alone facing a laughing madman, who was about to bleed out. The whole building would catch fire only in three minutes. He could hear the receding, rhythmic noise of the helicopter rotor from outside and smelled blood and gasoline. He felt like he was frozen to place. Then he heard something heavy to drop to ground right behind his back. He spun around to see what had caused the sound only to meet the glazed eyes of one of their captors, Al Raymond. The big man´s fingers had lost their grip from a gun handle._

 _"Is that true?" the man whispered in horror. Mercury smiled to him._

 _"Oh, R-Raymond... ha-ha... You were here also. You probably didn´t know but I have your son here too. He is in the basement if you want to pop and say hello. He kept asking for you. Though, you must hurry. If you make it in time, give him a hug before you die." After saying that Mercury gave a short cracked laugh. His eyes bulged from strain when he tried to gather enough air to his struggling lungs. His death was nearing at every moment._ _Al Raymond understood that as all well. The murderous intent that had built up during Mercuru´s talk was suddenly drained from him and the big man became white as a ghost and began to shake slightly._

 _"This is my punishment", John heard the man mumble to himself. "But my son..." His gruff voice broke. "...is innocent." His bleak eyes looked at John full of helpless regret. Then he gave the boy a sad smile._ _Somehow he recovered a little and stood straighter. His face was ashen but his expression was strangely stern, like desperation and calmness perfectly blended together._ _He grabbed John´s arm and dragged him to the broken window. John was too shocked to fight back. There was not much he could do to the huge man anyway. Then Al Raymond took him to his hands like he was a small child and hold him tightly to his muscular chest._ _Without a word he threw himself and the boy out from the window. A scream got stuck to Johns throat. Air got beaten out from his lungs but Raymond protected him with his large body taking most of the impact of the long fall. Next thing John noticed was that they were laying on the grass and he was on top of the man._ _Raymond gave out a pained growl and let go of him. John got slowly to his feet. The big man crawled up too. Raymond´s left ankle seemed broken. His wide face was dirty with blood and twisted from torment, but he turned back to the building and began wobbling slowly towards it. It seemed to take all his might not to crumple down._

 _"Mr. Raymond?" John called after him hesitatingly._

 _The man didn´t turn to look at him._

 _"Y-you run away, boy. As fast as you can. You might still make it. I´ll go to... where I should."_

 _John felt something in his throat. Tears burned in his eyes but he didn´t let then run._

 _"Thank you", he whispered. Then he turned on his heels and ran with his short legs as fast and as far as he could, not slowing down even when he heard explosives go off behind himself and felt the wave of heat hit his back. Ash and sparks floated in the air and smoke was so thick that sky became completely dark. For a moment, everything became a flaming hell._

 _Then he was suddenly out from there on the street where sirens howled and police cars and fire trucks gathered. Some officers advised him and other onlookers to retreat further away to ensure that they wouldn´t hurt themselves and rescue workers would have open access to the scene._

 _He moved away and suddenly he was all alone and no-one paid any attention to him. He didn´t know for how long he stayed there in the shadow of a shabby bar watching the futile work of fire workers trying to stop or at least limit the destruction caused by the rampage of majestic flames in the factory. At some point he must have turned away from there and returned home as the next thing he remembered was when his sister Harry came home._

 _/_

 _Their father had laid on the couch, still completely drunk. Empty bottles and cans had covered the floor around him and from the smell of it he had probably peed on himself. John had woken up to hear his sister kick and curse their father. Through the open door he had seen how she shook the man to get him up. John´s head felt heavy and his limbs powerless. Sister had called his name, but he had barely managed to get up to meet her._

 _"John!" She had shrieked horrified when she had seen his beaten up appearance. "Oh shit... What the hell has happened to you?" John would have told her but his lips felt thick and his head swam. Sister had let go of her luggage and rushed to him. She had put her cool hand to his forehead. "You are burning up, John! Oh God... What on earth has happened here when I was gone. Has father finally gone mad? To beat you like this..." She cast a hateful and dreading look towards the couch where their father was slowly waking up and mumbling some nonsense._

 _"Harry... It wasn´t dad."_

 _"Stop talking nonsense, John. That sorry excuse of a parent, has done his last mistake", she had sworn heatedly. Her expression had softened, when she had bent over John and touched gently the shallow scar on his face. "How could he do something like this to you", she had whispered._

 _"It really wasn´t dad, Harry. I mean it."_

 _But his sister hadn´t listened._

 _/_

 _His fever had run high and he had been bedridden for days. John remembered only cuts and pieces from those days._

 _"It´s all your fault! How could you do this to him!? I can´t leave him with you anymore. I wouldn´t know, if he´s still alive when I return", Harry had cried._

 _Their father had mumbled something to her._

 _"You don´t remember anything from the past two days? No wonder after how much you have drunk! I´ve seen you hit him earlier. Never this badly, but you change when you drink. We can´t go on like this. I can´t even take him to a hospital as they would ask questions. You could be put into jail for this, dad! I probably should still report this, but John doesn´t want it. Don´t you feel sorry for him at all? He is in this condition, but he still tries to defend you and claims that it wasn´t you who did this to him."_

 _When John had finally gotten better, Harry had explained to him that they would move out from London to live with their aunt in Wales. Their dad had promised to Harry that he would go through rehabilitation. That had been Harry´s condition for letting him see either of them ever again. John had tried to explain several times about kidnapping and what really had happened but no-one listened him. They thought that he had invented a crazy story to protect his abusive father._

 _Father had come to the doorway to send them away. He had stood there silently looking very small and old. When John had turned to say his goodbyes, there had been tears in his reddish eyes._

 _"I´m so sorry, boy. I never meant for this to happen. I really don´t remember any of it", he said quietly. His face looked so sober and serious that for a moment he seemed like a stranger to John._ _John had been about to answer but before he could do that impatient Harry had dragged him out and showed him in the waiting car. J_ _ohn would always remember the last look he had to their father from the window of the moving car. Mr. Watson looked very lonely while standing in the doorway and slowly waving his hand after his son and daughter._


End file.
